Love's Darkest Hour
by Lynx Ryder
Summary: An unpaid debt leads Jack, Sylvia, Will and Elizabeth into a battle to save themselves, the ones they love and ultimately love itself. Sequel to 'The Bird Cage.'
1. Thirteen Years Later

A/N: I said I wouldn't write a sequel to 'The Bird Cage' but that was before I saw Dead Man's Chest. I should have known I'd be powerless to resist! So here we are on a new adventure. Before we begin I'll just say that this fic takes place after The Bird Cage not after DMC, thus some events from DMC will play out here in a different way. I think things should be pretty self-explanatory for people who haven't read The Bird Cage but if you want to know who the hell Sylvia is, then you'll find all the details there.

Please do not read this if you haven't seen DMC! I don't want to spoil anything for you.

Disclaimer: Disney owns everything, except Sylvia. Long live Pirates!

No time to catch your breath, we're diving straight in...

* * *

Chapter One: Thirteen Years Later

The candle light flickered as the door opened. Presuming it was Tia, Jack stayed lying down, his head aching worse than the rest of his body. She would disturb him soon enough with her questions and her bizarre remedies, there was no need to speed the process along. The air had grown very cold all of a sudden, hadn't she shut the door after her? Grumbling under his breath, Jack reluctantly opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. Instead of Tia Dalma, the ethereal Jamaican seer, Jack found himself looking at something much more alarming. A person, it looked like, there were certainly human elements to it but instead of a hand, there was a lobster-like claw, and on the other hand one of the fingers was not a finger at all but a long, trailing tentacle. He only had one leg, the left leg replaced instead by what looked like the leg of a crab. All of that would have been extraordinary enough, but it was nothing to the man's face. His skin was like that of a squid, greyish-green and slimy, and hanging down, in an endless motion, was a writhing mass of tentacles, that formed a sort of living beard. Jack, unsurprisingly, forgot about the pain he was in, and decided that if this half man, half crustacean took another step he would hightail it out of there faster than lightening. A wave of nausea passed over him as the eyes buried within the squid-like face passed their icy stare over him.

"Jack Sparrow." _Eurgh, the thing spoke! _Jack's thoughts manifested themselves on his face as poorly disguised revulsion.

"Captain," Jack said instinctively, his voice a lot smaller than he would have liked. He convinced himself it was the pain talking.

"Ah, that's right, I did wonder when we would meet face t' face." Jack stared at the man, the thing, was he supposed to know who he was talking to? He was pretty sure that he had never been drunk enough to forget a face like that.

"Don' tell me ye don't know who I am," said the man. Jack stared hard at his tentacular face, for reasons which hardly need to be explained, but he felt no flicker of recognition.

"Nope, sorry," he said, "I ain't got a clue." The man took a limping step forward, the wood knocking hard on the floor. Jack's eyes widened. Where the hell was Tia! One of the man's tentacles reached out to touch a bottle full of shells that was hanging from the ceiling. Jack suppressed a shudder.

"A man of the sea such as yerself should really pay closer attention to the stories of yer crew." The man was getting closer, far too close for comfort. There were barnacles on his jacket. That just wasn't normal. Where the hell had Tia put his damn gun?

"Stories?" he said.

"Aye," said the man with an eerily malevolent smile, "Ever heard of Davy Jones?"

♠♥♣♦

Jack leapt out of bed with a yelp, rocking the other occupant into waking with a start herself.

"Jack?" Sylvia sat up to see Jack looking half nauseated, half startled, a somewhat amusing combination. He did not seem to think so, however, and glared at her when she began to snigger.

"It's not funny," he said testily, wiping his hands repeatedly on his shirt as if they were covered in something.

"What's not funny, Jack? You had a bad dream, that's all." Sylvia pulled her nightdress back onto her shoulder and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She had been having a very pleasant dream herself, the last golden rays of it were still warming her insides. Jack was still wiping his hands distractedly, and he had begun muttering to himself. It must have been a _really_ bad dream. She threw back the sheet covering her and walked over to him. He didn't notice her until she was almost on top of him.

"Argh! Don't do that!" he cried jumping back about three feet.

"I'm sorry, Jack!" said Sylvia bemused, "I didn't mean to…" Jack's expression suddenly changed, a smile snapping into place.

"Bad dream, that's all," he said airily. He kissed her on the cheek and then left the cabin still muttering 'bad dream' as he went. Sylvia watched him leave, shrugged and leapt back into bed. Perhaps if she was lucky she could catch the end of her dream…

♠♥♣♦

"Fine mornin', Captain!" said Gibbs heartily, "A beautiful day fer…"

"Yes, yes," said Jack waving his hands to dismiss Gibbs' musing, "I need t' talk t' you." Gibbs blinked in surprise.

"About what?" he asked, "Will I be needin' my rum?" He reached for his hip flask instinctively. Jack ignored him. He still felt horribly unclean. The intensity of the dream had not faded one bit, in itself a worrying sign.

"Mr Gibbs," he said seriously, "How much do you know about Davy Jones?" Gibbs, who had been halfway through taking a gulp of rum, choked.

"D-Davy Jones, Cap'n?" Tears made his eyes shine as he swallowed the burning rum. He screwed the lid onto his flask unnecessarily tight, his fingers clumsy. "I've 'eard a few stories," he said evasively, "Is this enquiry part of some idle curiosity of yers?"

"Eh?" Jack looked up. "I asked you how much you knew, damn it. Ye can't answer a question with a question." He surveyed Gibbs' flask then snatched it expertly, unscrewed it, with difficulty, and took a long swig. Gibbs licked his lips apprehensively.

"What is it ye wanted t' know about Davy Jones?" he asked, bracing himself. Jack threw the flask back to him.

"I never said I wanted t' know anythin'," he said infuriatingly, "Yer putting words in my mouth." He scanned the water suddenly, then flipped open his compass. Gibbs tried to see the direction in which it was pointing but Jack was holding it at such an angle that it was hidden from him. He snapped it shut with a little 'huh'.

"Something wrong, Cap'n?"

"Wrong? No, no, nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing. No, nothing. Plot a course for land, any land. I think I need some rum."

Rum would make everything better, Jack thought, as he descended down into the bowels of the Black Pearl in search of every pirate's favourite tipple. Sylvia was right, it was just a dream, a damn realistic one that happened to show him a night thirteen years ago that he would rather have forgotten, but a dream nonetheless and dreams never hurt anyone, right? He made a rather hasty grab at the nearest bottle at found it was empty. He struck gold with the next one, but saw that the stock was running alarmingly low. No need to inform the crew, he didn't want to start a panic. He drank half the bottle, cradling the remainder to his chest like it was his first born child. There, much better.

"Thirteen years, Jack Sparrow." The rum bottle slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor, rum bleeding out onto the wooden boards. Jack whirled round, his hand on his pistol but there was no one there, he was alone.

♠♥♣♦

"Jack, my God luv, you look so pale!" Sylvia sprang to his side the moment he entered the cabin. Her nose twitched as she wrapped her arms around him. "You been drinking?"

"Trust me, darlin'. You'd 'ave been drinkin' too." Sylvia frowned, her sun tanned face looking up at him, long hair still wild from sleep. She had met Jack four years ago but sometimes it felt like she had known him all her life.

"It wasn't just an nightmare, was it?" Her arms loosened their grip. For the most part she enjoyed her life as a pirate onboard the Black Pearl but there were a few times when Jack's propensity for dangerous and unpredictable situations had her wishing that there was someway to get him to settle somewhere where the sea was a legend parents told their children as they tucked them up in bed at night. Sylvia smiled at the absurdity of the thought before turning her attention back to the present problem.

"I…it were…" Jack stopped squirming. "Listen luv, you ever heard of Davy Jones?" Believing Jack to be changing the subject, Sylvia decided to go along with it.

"Sure I have," she said, "But I don't know anything about him. Was he a pirate or something?" Jack pulled a face.

"Not so much of the was, luv," he said. Sylvia raised her eyebrows.

"Do you mean to imply that Davy Jones exists today?" she asked sceptically. Jack nodded, clearly pleased that she had caught on so quickly. Sylvia tried to hold it in but in the end her giggles were unstoppable.

"Oh Jack," she laughed, "I think you might have overdone it on the rum this morning."

"Ye won't be laughin' when he comes for ye," muttered Jack sulkily.

"What?" asked Sylvia as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"Nothin'," said Jack quickly, "Now, where's me…?"

"Hang on a minute," said Sylvia, "You can't bring up Davy Jones and then tell me nothing about him. Who was he? Ok, ok, who _is_ he?" Jack thought of the "dream" and decided describing the man would be the best start. At least it would capture Sylvia's interest, she'd always been overly interested in squid in Jack's opinion. Of course, he had not expected that such a description would fuel the flames of Sylvia's hilarity. Her laughter rang out in peals, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"And this man-thing was in your dream?" Sylvia gasped, "Oh dear, Jack, now I know why you jumped out of bed!" Jack could feel his patience rapidly disappearing. If she did not want to believe him then she would just have to wait until…an idea struck him. There was nothing guaranteed to sober Sylvia up faster than a tragic love story, and what was this if not tragic?

"You know, they say Davy Jones became the way he is because he fell in love."

"With a crab?"

"No," Jack retorted, "With a woman." Sylvia was interested now, he could feel it. She moved closer to him, taking his hand in hers like she did whenever she wanted him to finish telling a story without getting distracted by something. This was better, a captive audience. Time for the killer punch.

"Story goes that ol' Davy Jones never stopped loving this woman, that it made him crazy. His heartache grew so bad that could not live with the pain, yet it weren't enough to kill him. So, do you know what 'e did?" Sylvia was wide eyed now. She shook her head, squeezing his hand in a silent plea. Jack had to resist beaming, it would rather have ruined the moment.

"He cut out his heart. He cut it out and locked it away then hid it from the world so he never had to feel again." Sylvia's reaction was so perfect, Jack clean forgot the purpose of telling her about Davy Jones in the first place.

"Oh Jack, that's so sad but so romantic! Oh, don't pull that face, Jack, it is! Imagine being so in love with someone that you could not bear it. It's the most romantic thing I have ever heard." She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. Jack was sure she was about to ask whether he would cut his heart out for her and was all ready with his answer when she caught him by surprise.

"So, who was she?"

"Who was who?"

"The woman, Jack! The woman Davy Jones fell so in love with."

"Oh. I dunno, I never did ask." Sylvia hit him playfully on the arm.

"What do you mean you never asked? You didn't want to know the best part?"

"I didn' really see it as important, luv. I had more pressing matters on my mind at the time and I 'aven't heard it said since."

"Well, I think you should find out," she said, "Because I want to know." She stood up and began to remove her nightdress immodestly. Jack watched her. He never tired of seeing fabric slide off her shoulders and hips. She was so good at shedding clothes, it was almost as if she preferred to be…

"Jack, for the last time I am not walking around naked anywhere but this room. If you ask me again, I won't even do that!"

"Fine," said Jack with a slight pout, "But…"

"Warning you, Jack."

Sylvia pulled out a shirt, it was ripped under one arm but that didn't matter, who was looking anyway? It hardly seemed possible that once her every outfit had been carefully chosen and arranged so that she would be presented in the best possible way. Oh, what a tiresome life that had been. There were things she missed though, a room that did not pitch and roll for a start, the means to do buy whatever she wished (within reason, of course, she was a lady after all!), and her father. She really did miss her father.

"How 'bout you wear yer dress today?" For one wild moment, Sylvia thought her thoughts had somehow transferred themselves into Jack.

"My dress? But Jack…I haven't worn that since…" She could not finish the sentence because she could not remember the last time she had worn a dress of any kind, let alone the one lone garment that was scrunched at the back of the wardrobe. Jack was smiling at her in a very forced way. Something was up.

"What's going on, Jack?" she asked suspiciously, "Why do you suddenly want me to wear a dress?"

"Because…" Jack desperately sought an answer that would sound feasible. "Because…" Suddenly, Sylvia clapped her hands to her mouth and Jack was sure he had been found out.

"Oh Jack!" she cried hoarsely, "I can't believe you remembered…I don't know what to say. You must think I'm terrible!"

"Er…" Jack was very lost all of a sudden, and he didn't much like it. Sylvia was getting more emotional by the second, her eyes had gone all shiny, her chin wobbling.

"Fancy me forgetting our anniversary and you remembering!"

"Oh!" Jack lit up. Perfect! "Yes, our anniversary, exactly. I cleaned me hat and everything." He hastily gave it quick dusting with this hand but Sylvia was tearing up so badly that she did not notice. She flung her arms around him and smothered him in kisses.

"I love you, Jack Sparrow," she whispered huskily in his ear, "There's just one thing I want to do before I go put on that dress." Her tongue flicked out and caressed his ear lobe.

"Oh," said Jack, "Well, if ye insist."

♠♥♣♦

Wolf whistles rang out from every corner of the ship. Usually Sylvia attracted barely more attention than anyone else but usually she wasn't wearing a dress designed to expose her cleavage. She had to admit that she was strangely flattered by it all, being a pirate often meant that being attractive was given a very low priority but there were times when Sylvia just wanted to be told she was beautiful. Gibbs grinned from ear to ear when he saw her.

"Ye look like a true Princess, Sylvia," he said kissing her hand grandly. His bristly beard tickled her skin. "Jack's a lucky man."

"Too right he is," she said with a wink, "Come to think of it, where is Jack?"

"He said somethin' about needin' t' check the horizon," replied Gibbs. He hesitated then added, "'Ave you noticed anythin' strange 'bout Jack this morning?" Sylvia considered this.

"Stranger than usual, you mean? Well, he woke from a nightmare this morning, I think it shook him up a bit. Maybe it was another 'Elizabeth burned the rum' dream." Gibbs murmured his sympathetic agreement and crossed himself. Sylvia resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. What was it with these boys and rum? You'd think they had been weaned on the stuff. Come to think of it, they probably had.

"So that's it then," said Gibbs apparently satisfied, "Another Jack Sparrow mystery solved."

"Maybe," said Sylvia unconvinced, "There was something else."

"Go on," said Gibbs as he prepared to take a swig from his hip flask.

"He mentioned Davy Jones." Gibbs choked, spraying rum all over the place.

"My apologies, Sylvia," he coughed as she wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Quite alright," said Sylvia who knew it had been an accident. Gibbs wiped his mouth with the back of his hand lowering it slowly.

"Davy Jones, you say?"

"Yes, I'm sure it's nothing, but he's never mentioned him before and I wondered what had brought him to mind."

"Yes, that is interesting," said Gibbs in his customary dramatic tone, "He brought him up with me only this morning. Gets me to thinkin', why would Jack 'ave a man like Davy Jones on the mind?"

"What do you mean?" Sylvia asked but Gibbs was called away at that very moment. Feeling like she had missed out on something insightful, Sylvia went to find Jack to see if he felt like talking. She found him poring over an old map, his fingers doing more looking than his eyes. Deciding to leave him to it, she climbed back up on deck to take in some of the fresh, clear air.

♠♥♣♦

"Davy Jones…_the_ Davy Jones." Jack wondered how hard he had actually hit his head during his fall, hard enough to create a phantom being that claimed to be a long dead sailor? Possibly. Said sailor removed a pipe from his seaweed encrusted jacket, slipped it between his teeth and lit it. The ensuing smoke made Jack's eyes water. _Where the hell was Tia?_

"Aye," the sailor said, "_The _Davy Jones." He seemed to be gaining some kind of savage enjoyment from Jack's discomfort, well, he wasn't the first person to do so.

"The Davy Jones who cut out his heart and…" Jones raised a hand, or rather, a claw to cut him off.

"Oh," said Jack, "Well, pleasure to meet ye, I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again sometime." He stood, trying to ignore the way the room swam, and the way his body screamed at him to lie back down. Unfortunately he could not ignore the tentacle that wrapped its way around his wrist, tightening around it with a cold, clammy grip.

"Yer Captain o' the Black Pearl, am I right?" Jones said. Jack, who could not tear his eyes away from the horrible slimy thing that was wrapping itself tighter around him, spoke to his hand.

"I was," he said, "Before…"

"She sank," finished Jones, "Unfortunate." There was something in the way he spoke that made Jack look up. In that split second's eye contact, Jack felt a connection to this monster that he had never thought possible. Jones' knew what it was to suffer a broken heart, their situations were not so different. So the object of his affection was a ship rather than a woman, it was but a trifling detail. All the legends he had heard regarding Davy Jones came back to him, the terrible and the terrifying, but Jack focused not on the tales of the leviathan that did his bidding or the rumours that he press ganged dying men into joining his crew of sea-phantoms. Oh no, these did not interest Jack Sparrow. He was only interested in one thing. He wanted his Pearl back.

♠♥♣♦

Jack's hand slipped and he knocked a whole stack of Sylvia's books onto the floor. Was it possible to dream when you weren't asleep? Of course it was, that was the whole point of drinking rum…only, this dream had not been rum induced, Jack was fairly sure of that. He picked up the books feeling shaky and more than a little queasy. He kept checking and rechecking his wrist as if expecting to see a tentacle winding its way round it but there was nothing there.

"A dream," he said to himself, "Just a dream."

"Thirteen years, Jack." Jack dropped the books in his hands and dashed from the room as if the devil himself were after him. He slammed the door behind him and headed swiftly into the sunshine. Nothing bad happened when the sun was shining, he tried to tell himself, nothing bad was going to happen. They would get to land within the next day or two and then he would have time to think of a way to get out of this mess. That would have been a good plan, had a ship had not appeared from the depths of the ocean beside them at that very moment.

♠♥♣♦

Sylvia was too shocked to do anything but stare as an enormous black shape rose and then suddenly erupted through the surface of the water. It was recognisable as a ship almost immediately, water streaming from its every surface. A ship it may have been but Sylvia had never seen a vessel like it. First of, it was enormous, big enough to rival the Black Pearl, for sure, and she was by no means insignificant. Then there were the carvings all over it, immaculately detailed friezes of death in every form you could imagine. As morbid as it was, there was a striking elegance to it and Sylvia found herself drawn to its dark beauty. The whole crew had frozen, stunned into silence. Sylvia looked over at Jack who was looking just as dumbstruck as the rest of them. She noticed that he had not even made a grab for his pistol or his sword.

♠♥♣♦

_Oh bugger_. Jack knew there was no point in reaching for weapons, he wasn't sure there was much point in doing anything about now but just because the Flying Dutchman had appeared from nowhere right beside them did not mean he was going to give in. They'd made one deal, there was no reason they couldn't make another one. Right? Jack looked nervously over at Sylvia and saw she was looking at him, her face pale. Suddenly her eyes widened and she took a step backwards, her eyes fixed on a point ever so slightly passed him. Jack was fairly certain that whatever it was behind him was not something he wanted to face just now. Maybe if he just…

"And where exactly do you think yer going?" Jack winced. There was only one person that voice could belong to.

"Davy Jones," he said turning back with a flamboyant grin. Jones looked no different from the last time Jack had seen him, just as disturbing. "Is there somethin' I can do fer you?" Jones made a show of pretending to think which personally Jack could have done without.

"You do remember the deal we made, don't you Sparrow? I raised the Pearl for you, brought her back to life, and you…ye've been Captain fer thirteen years."

"Actually…" Jack began but Jones stopped him.

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow? Isn't that what ye've been calling yerself, Pearl or no? Thirteen years, Jack. Time fer you to pay up." _Not good._

"Jack!" All eyes turned to the source of the call. Sylvia stopped just short of the pair of them, her expression torn between disbelieving bewilderment and fierce loyalty. "Is this Davy Jones!"

"Now might not be the best time, luv," Jack hissed trying to indicate that she should make herself scarce but it was far too late for her to escape Jones' notice. His light blue eyes were fixed upon her so intently that Jack saw Sylvia squirm.

"And who be this?" Jones asked suddenly making them all jump. Jack opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then groaned as Sylvia leapt right into his silence.

"Sylvia," she said forcefully, "Sylvia Sparrow." Jones looked at Jack then began to laugh, a truly horrible sight as well as sound as it made all the tentacles on Jones' face jiggle and jump.

"Sylvia Sparrow," he repeated, "How…interesting."

"Aye, but now introductions are made I think it's time we talked business, 'ey?" said Jack hurriedly with a pointed look at Gibbs who, thankfully, got the message at once.

"Come along," he said to Sylvia trying to take her by the arm and lead her away, "Cap'n wants some privacy."

"No," said Jones his voice deadly smooth, "Let her stay." Sylvia pulled away from Gibbs and briefly she and Jones were in agreement, a turn of events Jack found most discomforting. Though it was nothing to how he felt after Jones next spoke.

"She deserves t' know what's t' become of her man, don't ye think, Jack?" There was an uncomfortable silence.

"What does he mean, Jack?" Sylvia asked in a small voice, "What have you done?"

"I…" But there was no use denying it. He grinned again, gold teeth catching the sunlight. "We're all friends here, aren't we?" he said hopefully, "No reason we can't talk 'bout this in a reasonably civilised fashion." Jones, unnervingly, was still looking at Sylvia who, in turn, was still glaring at Jack and appeared not to have noticed his interest.

"The terms we agreed to be the ones we will be stickin' too," said Jones. _Definitely not good._

"Jack, what are the terms? What are you talking about?" Once more, Jack ignored Sylvia knowing that he would certainly pay for it later.

"Surely there must be somethin' you want more than m--…our agreed price," said Jack optimistically. For the first time since Sylvia had arrived on the scene, Jones' eyes slid away from her and fixed themselves on Jack.

"You know what, Jack?" he said with a dangerous smile, "There is somethin' I want more than you. I want her."

* * *

A/N: Wow, it feels good to be writing PotC fiction again! I hope to see some familiar names telling me what they think, as well as some new ones.


	2. Jack's Mistake

A/N: I am lovin' writing this, love love loving it! I have missed writing my pirates ;-).

* * *

Chapter Two: Jack's Mistake

"You want…what?" asked Jack weakly hoping he had heard wrong, but Jones was still smiling. A _very_ bad sign. Sylvia stepped forwards, looking both angry and scared.

"Jack?" she said again pressing him for an explanation as one of Jones' henchman appeared beside her, his shark-face snarling at her. "Jack!"

"Can't we talk about this?" Jack tried already knowing what the answer would be.

"I'm of the opinion we've talked enough," said Jones thoroughly enjoying himself. "A deal's a deal, Jack, fortunately fer you I've changed the terms…or perhaps you were hoping I would. Maccus, take her to the ship." The shark-man stepped forwards but stopped when Jack pulled his pistol and pointed it at Davy Jones.

"Now Jack…what exactly are you going to do with that?" Jack looked at it then at Jones.

"Shoot you?" he said hopefully. Jones shrugged.

"You really are incredibly stupid, Jack Sparrow," he said with a touch of disappointment then he shot a hard look at his shark-like associate, "What did I just say?" The shark-man jumped to attention and grabbed Sylvia.

"Jack?" she sounded terrified now, "Jack, please!"

Jack lowered his gun and looked away, unable to bring himself to watch Sylvia being taken away from him. _Coward_.

"Didn' quite work like you'd hoped, did it?" Jack looked up to find Jones still standing uncomfortably close. "Very unwise, Jack."

"I don' know what yer talking about," said Jack quietly.

"Oh, I think ye do," said Jones brusquely.

"She hasn't made a deal with you, ye can't…"

"Let me stop ye there before ye make the mistake of telling me what I can't do," said Jones, "It would do you well t' listen fer a change. You 'ave a choice, Jack Sparrow. One choice. I'm givin' you three days. Your soul or hers, one hundred years of servitude onboard my ship. And if yer thinkin' of bein' smart and headin' fer land, hear this, if I can't find you on the third day, I will consider your mind made up. She will be mine for eternity." He turned to face his monstrous ship. "Three days, Jack." And with that he was gone.

♠♥♣

Jack had been staring at the place the Dutchman had been for almost ten solid minutes without moving, his pistol was still in his hand. Gibbs decided that he had to snap him out of it.

"Er…Cap'n?" Jack moved so fast Gibbs would have been impressed had it been someone else the barrel of the gun was pointing to.

"Jack, it's me..." he said nervously, "Jones has gone." Jack reluctantly lowered the weapon and holstered it.

"I know," he said. Gibbs took a cautious step closer.

"He took Sylvia."

"I know!" shouted Jack. Gibbs waited three seconds.

"So, what're we goin' t' to about it?" Jack glared at him, too angry to speak it seemed, then his shoulders slumped.

"If I might make a suggestion, Cap'n," said Gibbs, "We were headin' fer Port Royal, were we not? Well, there's more than one reason to visit friends." To his very great surprise, Jack's face broke into a broad grin.

"You're right!" he said, "Will and 'Lizabeth, why didn' I think of that before? Get this ship moving!" Glad though he was that his idea had been greeted with such approval, Gibbs could not help feeling uneasy. Davy Jones, Captain of the Flying Dutchman and general bad news, had just appeared on the ship, taken the love of Jack's life and he had barely reacted. Sure enough, there wasn't a lot could be done but this was the man that had commandeered a ship of the navy from right under their noses. To Jack, impossible was nothing, so why had he given in so easily? Gibbs took a swig from his flask only to find it was empty. Cursing, he hurried away to make Jack's orders well known and get them to Port Royal before the day was out. Thinking, he decided, was bad for him.

♠♥♣

The scene before her was horrifying and appalling in equal parts. Sylvia was so shocked that for a moment she forgot all about Jack and the Pearl. Davy Jones limped heavily away barking orders as he did so. Maccus turned his attention towards her. In keeping with his hammerhead shark appearance, his teeth jutted out as he opened his mouth, all of them triangular and sharp.

"Yer new home," he said with a mock bow, "Welcome to the Flying Dutchman." Sylvia whirled around but all she could see was ocean. The Black Pearl had disappeared. Behind her, Maccus laughed raspily. When she turned to face him, she saw others creeping closer, half men-half marine creatures that not even her worse nightmare could have created.

"Captain's orders?" one of them asked Maccus.

"He ain't given any," said Maccus. Sylvia backed away from them until her back hit something hard and she could go no further. She felt her hand touch something slimy but she didn't dare look to see what it was. Sylvia didn't know what was worse, facing these gruesome beings or knowing that Jack had left her to face them alone. How could he have done this to her? Just as she was sure that she was about to scream, someone pushed through the crowd.

"Captain wants her with him." This man looked marginally less deformed than the others, but as it was he still had enough crustacean about him to make Sylvia shrink back. What really marked him out though were his eyes, he had the saddest eyes Sylvia had ever seen. The others seemed reluctant to listen to him. Maccus snapped his deadly jaw.

"I weren't given no orders," he said dubiously.

"You want to disobey the Captain?" Sad Eyes asked. There were no arguments but Sylvia felt the intensity of every man's gaze as she followed Sad Eyes across the deck. Everything was black, but it wasn't a bit like the Pearl. The carvings that Sylvia had marvelled at were frighteningly real now she was up close. She wanted to wake up and be back in her cabin with Jack so he could tell her everything was alright, that he would never, ever, in a million years use her to settle some debt. Unfortunately, as Sad Eyes turned round, she knew she would not be waking up any time soon.

"Captain's through there," he said quietly, water dribbling from his mouth as he spoke. Sylvia looked to where he pointed and saw a door that looked like the gateway to hell itself. She shuddered.

"Do what he says," Sad Eyes said, his voice dropping even lower, "And ye'll be alright."

"And if I don't like what he says?" Sylvia said. She might have been a helpless prisoner but even prisoners have a choice, to lie down or fight. And she was determined not to do any lying down. Sad Eyes shot an apprehensive look at the door.

"Jus' do what he says," he pleaded, "Go!" And before Sylvia could say another thing, he hurried away. Sylvia watched him go then looked back at the black door. She wondered whether Davy Jones already knew she was standing outside it. How long would he wait? Why was she waiting? She knew she would have to face him sooner or later. Despite Sad Eyes' prediction that she would be alright if she did what Davy Jones said, she was sure that she going to be hurt. She was already hurt but, in truth, that had little to do with Davy Jones himself. After all, if Jack had been willing to sell her to him, what other debts might she have been used to pay for? _No_. Sylvia shook herself. She must not think like that. There had to be a good reason for Jack's behaviour. He loved her. She knew he loved her. He would not have let this happen to her without a good reason, but none of this made it any easier to step closer to the looming black door. _Go_, she told herself, _go!_

Sylvia knocked upon the dark stained wood. She did not really know why, she already knew he was waiting for her. There was no answer. Sylvia looked around, unwilling to enter without permission to do so. She knocked again, a little more loudly, and the door swung open to admit her. Trembling, Sylvia slipped through into the candlelit chamber beyond, wholly unprepared for the sight that awaited her. This was less a cabin, like that of the Pearl or any other ship she had ever been on, it was more like a small hall. The ceiling stretched high above her, almost impossibly high if her memory of the outside of the ship was correct. Facing her was the most extraordinary thing Sylvia had ever seen onboard a ship, and that included Davy Jones himself. An organ, impressive enough to be at home in a cathedral, sat unmanned, pipes large enough for her to slide down ready and waiting. Entranced, Sylvia walked forwards, too enchanted to spare a moment's thought for why the room she had been asked to go to was empty. The organ boasted three tiers of ivory keys, all of them showing signs of wear. Sylvia crept closer marvelling at the decoration around the magnificent instrument. Above the highest tier of keys was a statue of an angel leaning out to look at a glorious sunset that was painted before her. Sylvia wondered if the angel was meant to be the figurehead of a ship, or the embodiment of someone whom the instrument maker had known long ago, for there was no doubt that the instrument was as old as it was grand. She longed to touch it, her fingers hovered a mere inch from the keys as she debated how much noise pressing one key would make.

"Havin' fun?" The organ cried out as Sylvia's hand slipped down, the sound make her jump again, she pulled away and wheeled around to face her captor. Davy Jones looked unimpressed at her little display but said nothing, choosing to walk past her instead. She noticed that he scanned the organ searchingly, sitting down only when he was satisfied everything was as it should be.

"What are you going to do with me?" Sylvia asked. She was pleased to hear her voice come out as strong as she wanted it to do. Jones surveyed her. She tried to guess what he was thinking. Was he angry? Amused? Uninterested? It was impossible to tell.

"How long have you been married to Sparrow?" he asked after a long pause. Taken aback, it did not occur to Sylvia to lie.

"We're not married," she said holding up her naked left hand.

"Not married," repeated Jones inquisitively, "Yet you use his name." Sylvia remembered doing just that only half an hour ago. Sylvia Sparrow, a lie, but a desirable one.

"It was his idea," she said looking down at her hands, "To use a different name, I mean. It was my idea to use his." Jones fished a pipe out from his jacket pocket, slipped it between his teeth and lit it. He was silent for some time.

"Yer in love with him then," he said at last, smoke gushing out of his mouth with the words. Sylvia had no idea where this was going, but she remembered Sad Eyes' advice. At least he wasn't hurting her, not physically at any rate, and there wasn't any way he could know about the internal turmoil, was there?

"Yes, I am."

"And is he in love with you?" Jones asked the question casually enough, but Sylvia heard the edge in his voice though she did not know what it meant.

"Yes," she said firmly willing herself to sound as though she believed it.

"And what does the great Jack Sparrow love more I wonder?" said Jones, "His woman…or his ship?" Sylvia felt a tongue of indignant flame shoot up through her.

"He loves me more than the Pearl. I know he does." Of course he did.

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" said Sylvia angrily but Jones was ready to dose her fire with cold water.

"Then why, pray tell, did he leave you with me and take the ship?"

♠♥♣

"Jack Sparrow, this is undoubtedly the wickedest, most cowardly thing you have ever done in your life!" Elizabeth's words rang out of the open windows across Port Royal like a gun shot.

"Thanks fer keeping my arrival on the quiet, luv," Jack grumbled, half expecting the armed guard to appear at any moment.

"And why exactly should I do that?" Elizabeth demanded, her hands on her hips, "Where is it written that I should protect a man who is so depraved, so selfish and so immoral that he would leave the woman he loves to fend for herself while he sails away scot-free?" The woman was seething, literally seething. "Just wait until Will gets home," she warned. Jack intended to do just that. He and Elizabeth had always had a stormy relationship, electric at times but definitely stormy. Will was far more likely to see his side of the story, though Jack was pretty sure the telling of the tale would need to be done by himself rather than the missus. Elizabeth had an uncanny knack for putting a bad spin on things even when they were not entirely his fault.

"Seriously Jack, how could you?" Elizabeth asked jogging him back to the here and now. Her voice was lower now but Jack would have preferred it if she had continued to shout at him. She sounded so…disappointed. When Jack did not offer up an answer, she stormed away, slamming doors and loudly forbidding her son, Tom, from going to see his hero. Jack listened to all of this from the comfort of the Turners' drawing room. The other times he had been here came to mind, one after the other, all of the memories containing Sylvia. Why had he agreed to Jones' new terms? Was it, as he tried to make himself believe, because he thought he had a better chance of rescuing Sylvia than she had of rescuing him? Or was it because he had been desperate for any way out? It was true, things had not worked out the way he had hoped, when did they ever? Reluctantly he had to admit Elizabeth was right; this was the most cowardly thing he had ever done. Sylvia would never forgive him, providing of course she ever got the chance.

Jack's doleful musings caused him to completely lose track of time. It was only when he heard the front door open that he remembered he was waiting for Will. The sound of running footsteps started up overhead. Jack leapt up. Elizabeth was trying to get there first. _Not this time, Lizzie. _

"Jack!" Will looked pleasantly surprised to see him, his tired face breaking into a grin, but Jack had no time to cherish the moment. He grabbed Will by the arm and propelled him into the drawing room without pausing for trifles such as an explanation. As soon as they were both inside the room, Jack slammed the door closed.

"Key?" he said holding it shut.

"Jack, what's…?"

"Do you have a key for this thing or not?" Jack snapped. Confused, Will walked to the other side of the room and fished a key of the mantelpiece. He threw it over to Jack who locked the door. A split second later, the door handle rattled.

"Jack! Jack, open this door right now," came Elizabeth's muffled voice from the other side of the thick wood, "Will? Will, don't lis…"

"Jack, what's going on? Why have you locked Elizabeth out? Why are you here?"

"All in good time," said Jack, "Is that a drink's cabinet I see?" He sauntered over, keeping up the appearance of being his usual self. He let Will creep a few paces towards the locked door before turning to him.

"Don't open it," he said, "There's a good lad. What's this?" He held up a rather elaborate looking bottle full of something black.

"I don't know," confessed Will, "Governor Swann brought it over a few weeks ago. We haven't been brave enough to try it yet. Fancy a glass?" Jack grinned. He could always count on Will to be as dense as a good friend should always be. They took seats roughly opposite each other.

"How's Sylvia?" Will asked, "Well, I hope." Elizabeth must have left them to it for the banging on the door had stopped; Will seemed to have completely forgotten that he was locked in a room against his will.

"She's…been better," said Jack who had rather hoped to avoid this moment for a few minutes at least.

"Oh," said Will putting his glass down with a look of revulsion after the first taste. When he looked up at Jack there was an odd twinkle in his eye. "She's not pregnant, is she?" Jack almost choked.

"She most certainly is not!" said Jack as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. His Sylvia. Pregnant. He shuddered.

"She's not ill, is she?" said Will, concerned.

"No," said Jack, "She's not ill."

"Then what, Jack? Why isn't she here?" Jack drained the remaining black liquid in his glass in one go before proceeding to tell Will almost everything.

♠♥♣

The moment Jones had left her alone with the organ, the tears had begun, pouring down so thick and fast she could no longer see. Sylvia did not feel remotely brave any more. Here she was, by herself on a ship crewed by sea-phantoms, and all she had to comfort her was the thought that maybe Jack's conscience would twinge and he would come back to exchange his life for hers. What chance was there for that? Jones had told her the exact terms of the new agreement, the agreement that she had not had a say in and yet it would see her spend an eternity on the Dutchman if Jack did not save her. And it was hard to have faith in Jack any more. Jones had spelt it out for her when she had been too blind to see it for herself. Jack was too in love with his life on the Black Pearl to want to give it up for anything…or anyone. Other things had begun to fall into place too, like Jack's insistence that she wore this stupid dress. He had known that whatever deal he had originally made with Jones was coming to an end, and he knew all about Jones' lost love. He had hoped that she would be the distraction. He had used her as bait. Jack had actually wanted her to be taken, it had been his plan. And then there were all the hints that he had been giving her lately about being bored with her…the days when he hardly paid her any attention, the nights when she slept alone in a bed meant for two. The tears continued.

♠♥♣

Davy Jones stood outside the closed door and listened to the sound of a woman crying. It had been all too easy. She had seemed like a strong woman but everyone could be broken, he had proved that over the long years. Davy was as expert in causing pain as he was in feeling it, but this time he had no intention of letting his victim know he what he was doing. He had been able to sense the love between Jack Sparrow and Sylvia the moment he had stepped onto the Pearl, a love greater even than Jack's love for his ship. The moment Davy had sensed that great love the task at hand had become all the sweeter. For what could be better than seeing two hearts break?

♠♥♣

"Jack, I…I don't know what to say," said Will. Jack had finished his story a few minutes ago, and was staring out at the gathering darkness. He looked lost, utterly lost. "There's got to be a way," Will continued, racking his brains for any extra information he had about Davy Jones and coming up short, "Maybe we can find something to give to him that he'll want more than your souls."

"Weren't you listening, boy?" said Jack, "I tried that. He's not interested in anything but misery and pain. He feeds on it, lives for it…and when he makes an agreement you can't break it."

"But he can," Will pointed out, "Your original agreement was raising of the Black Pearl and thirteen years of captaincy in exchange for a hundred years of service aboard the Flying Dutchman, right? But he changed it, to include Sylvia. If we can convince him to change it again, maybe we can…"

"And how exactly do you propose to get Davy Jones to change his mind?" Jack asked irritated, "Might I remind you, William, that the man's a mite unbalanced."

"Well, we can't do nothing," said Will passionately, "Sylvia's a prisoner!" If it were up to him, he'd set sail right now, sword in hand, and not stop until they found the Dutchman and its Captain.

"I don't intend to do nothing," said Jack a little put out by the inference that he was just going to sit back and wait for Sylvia to be condemned to eternal damnation, "I simply don't know what it is I do intend to do but when I do know, I definitely intend on letting you know."

"Right," said Will trying to sound positive, "Well, I think the best thing we can do now is get some sleep and see what we can come up with in the morning. We'll still have two days." Both he and Jack exchanged a glance. Two days to work out a plan to outsmart an immortal sea Captain. Well, they'd done it before…

* * *

A/N: So Will and Liz make their appearance, much earlier than they did in the last fic!

Thank you for the reviews and the promise of reviews to come. I'm going to see DMC again next week, yay! That will bring my total up to five times, heehee, long live obsession.

I'll be going away on holiday next weekend so I'll aim to get another chapter before I leave. Happy pirate lovin' 'til then!


	3. Tears and Blood

A/N: As promised, a new chapter before I disappear for a fortnight. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback!

* * *

Chapter Three: Tears and Blood

Sylvia woke stiff and cold. She had cried herself to sleep, curled up in a corner of the organ room. The candles had gone out, leaving the moonlight as the only illumination. The organ looked daunting rather than impressive in such a light. Sylvia felt like it was watching her. _Ridiculous_, she told herself sternly, but the feeling remained. The floor was rocking beneath her in a way that made her suspect they were on the move. Sylvia wondered where they were going, did the Flying Dutchman make port somewhere or did it just ride the waves endlessly like a ghost trapped between two worlds? She vaguely remembered something Jack had mentioned about Davy Jones only being able to step on land every ten years…or was it five? She couldn't remember, she didn't want to hear Jack's voice in her head any more anyway. She had cried enough for one night. Stiffly, Sylvia got to her feet. Her dress was creased, dirty and torn and she longed to change it but she very much doubted whether she'd be getting the chance to. She paced the cabin several times to work the aches out of her joints, then, when both her muscles and her courage had warmed, she approached the organ once again. She did not have any desire to touch the keys, they would make far too much noise and wake the whole crew likely as not. No, what she was interested in this time was the object Davy Jones had looked at when he had snuck up on her examining the organ. His eyes had swept over the keys and settled on a silver something. Something that Sylvia could see, now she was closer, was heart shaped. It looked to be an ornament of some kind, slightly tarnished but still very pretty. Such a strange thing to find in the cabin of the much feared Davy Jones. Once more, Jack's voice spoke inside her. _You know, they say Davy Jones became the way he is because he fell in love._ Had this silver heart once belonged to the woman Davy Jones had lost his heart too? A thump on the other side of the door made Sylvia gasp. Rather foolishly, she looked around for a place to hide, seeing none she settled for crouching down to make herself as small as she could and hoping that whoever it was would not see her and go away.

The door opened, hinges creaking slightly and a shadow slipped inside. Sylvia knew at once that it was not Davy Jones himself. Firstly, there could be no disguising the clunk, clunk of his walk and secondly, he had no need to sneak about on his own ship. So whoever had just entered the room did not want anyone to know he had done so. Sylvia could not help thinking that she might be better off with Jones. The shadow moved, creeping along the side of the room, keeping to the areas which were not flooded by moonlight. Sylvia held her breath, desperate to remain hidden. Then the shadow, forced by her reluctance to show herself, moved into the light. Sylvia recognised the sad, sad eyes and most of her fear fell away at once as they fell on her.

"There you are," he whispered, "I brought food." He pushed a tray of something towards her.

"Oh, thank you," said Sylvia. She wasn't the least bit hungry and she was frankly dreading looking at what he had presented her with, but she was touched all the same. "You didn't have to do that. Will you get in trouble?"

"Not if no one finds out," said Sad Eyes and there was a very, very brief moment when Sylvia thought he might once have smiled. She thought he was going to disappear again but instead he stood there looking awkwardly at her, until Sylvia was fairly sure that he wanted to ask her something.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. Sad Eyes twisted his hands around each other, searching for the right words, or the courage to say them, Sylvia could not tell.

"I…I heard from the crew that you…that you're Jack Sparrow's…"

"Yes," said Sylvia cutting him off.

"Is he, Jack, is he alright?"

"Yes," said Sylvia, "At least, I think so. Do you know him?"

"Used to," said Sad Eyes, "A long time ago." Suddenly he turned as if he had heard something. Sylvia strained her ears but could hear nothing at all.

"I better go," he said quickly, "I'm supposed to be on duty."

"Wait," said Sylvia, "What's your name?" Sad Eyes stared at her. She could almost have believed that he had never been asked before.

"Bill," he said, "Bill Turner. Everyone calls me Bootstrap."

♠♥♣

Will woke when his not-so-little boy jumped in the middle of the bed and demanded to be allowed to see Uncle Jack. Elizabeth ordered him off the bed and treated the poor lad to a lecture about how no one in this house was going to be spending any time with Uncle Jack for a good long while, possibly forever. By the time she was finished, Tom had tears running down his face. He ran from the room without a word, his little heart broken.

"Darling," said Will very, very gently, "Was that really necessary?" Elizabeth rounded on him fiercely.

"Are you telling me you'd like your impressionable young son to spend time with the man who abandoned the woman he is supposed to love to a fate worse than death?" she demanded. Will hastily backtracked.

"No, of course not, but poor Tom…"

"Tom has to learn that some people are bad," said Elizabeth looking away suddenly, "Even people you love." Will flung the bed covers aside and walked round to his wife, whose hand was now covering her mouth.

"Elizabeth, are you crying?" She shook her head but he could see the tears now. "Oh Liz." Will wrapped his arms around her and cradled her gently.

"Don't you see, Will? If he could do that to Sylvia…if he could do that to her, what's to stop him from abandoning any of us? Even little Tom if he saw profit in it."

"I don't think Jack would…"

"Don't stick up for him! I won't hear it! How can you defend him, Will? How could you have let him stay the night in this house?" Will had no idea what to say for the best so, wisely, he kept quiet. There would be more raised voices before long, he was sure of it, he had to cherish the peace while he could.

"Will?"

"Yes, Elizabeth?"

"You'd never abandon me, would you?" Will looked his beloved wife straight in the eyes.

"I would never abandon you," he said, "I promise."

♠♥♣

Elizabeth felt much calmer after her talk with Will, but she could not stop her stomach from churning every time she caught sight of the sea. Sylvia was somewhere out there, fighting for her life. How had she been able to understand Jack's decision to desert her when she, Elizabeth, could not? If Will ever…but he wouldn't, he had promised, and she knew her husband would never go back on his word. He was a good man. Unlike Jack. Jack didn't have a good bone in his body. She should never have let an honest, beautiful woman like Sylvia get caught up with him. Even as Elizabeth thought this she knew she would never have been able to convince Sylvia to let Jack go. If the roles had been reversed, if Sylvia had had to chose between giving up her own life or giving up Jack's, Elizabeth knew exactly which she would have chosen and there wouldn't have been a moment's hesitation.

"Jack, you look terrible!" Will cried from the next room. Jack gave Will a very dry look before collapsing on a chair.

"Didn't you get much sleep?" Will asked.

"I should bloody well hope not," said Elizabeth her eyes flashing, "If there's any justice in this world, he'll never sleep again."

"Elizabeth…" began Jack wearily.

"No, I don't want to hear it," said Elizabeth her hands ready to clamp over her ears, "You said you loved Sylvia…do you even know what that means? Have you ever really ever loved anything besides your stupid ship?" Jack was on his feet in an instant. Will leapt up too, positioning himself between the two combatants, but it was pretty clear that despite the initial wave of offence Jack was not up to any kind of fight.

"Tis not a stupid ship, lass," he said before sitting back down.

"Oh right," said Elizabeth sarcastically, "How could I have forgotten? It's the precious Pearl, much more important than the woman who loves you."

"I'm not goin' t' leave her there, luv," said Jack heavily, "It's temporary." Elizabeth gave a short laugh.

"How comforting for Sylvia."

"Elizabeth, this really isn't helping," said Will quietly. Elizabeth bristled. For a scary moment, Will was sure she was going to hit him. Instead, she stormed away, cursing in a most un-Elizabeth like manner. She would be back within minutes, Will was sure of it.

"It's going to be hard to convince her to let me come with you, Jack."

"Don't then," said Jack looking more tired by the second.

"I want to, Jack. You came here for help, I…"

"You wouldn't be letting me down," said Jack, "If the wife wants ye home…"

"She's got Tom and Laura to look after now, it's a lot of work for her. I can't just leave her without her permission." Jack suddenly sat up straighter and looked around.

"Where are the kids? I haven't seen them around." Will's silence spoke volumes.

"Oh." Jack slumped back on his chair. "Lizzie still keepin' them out of harm's way. Fair enough."

"Do you have any idea what you're going to do, Jack? If I could give Elizabeth a plan of action, she might…"

"She might what," said a razor sharp voice from the doorway, "Let you go gallivanting off with pirates?"

"Dada?" Laura was balanced on Elizabeth's hip, her face frightened. She was too young to understand the words but the tone of her mother's voice was enough to warn anyone that something bad was happening.

"How could you even…? How could you do this to me, Will?"

"Elizabeth…" But she was already walking away, speaking comforting words to her little daughter whose bottom lip was beginning to tremble. Will was on his feet, torn between his family and his friends. Sylvia and Jack needed his help, how could he sleep at night knowing they were in danger? But Elizabeth…he had promised not to abandon her, she had made him promise. He did not want to leave her or the children for a night, let alone an extended sea voyage with an uncertain conclusion. It would be dangerous, that much was certain, could he really justify putting them through all of that?

Half an hour later, and Jack was leaving. He touched his hat to Will before setting off back to the Pearl. Will ran upstairs to where Elizabeth was building a tower of wooden bricks for Laura. Tom was in the corner playing with his wooden pirate ship dejectedly. Elizabeth looked up at her husband as he walked in. She could read him like a book.

"Will Turner, if you leave this house with that pirate I will never forgive you."

♠♥♣

Daylight was returning. It did not make as much of a difference to the Dutchman as it did to the Pearl but Sylvia still preferred it. The darkness was one extra terror as far as she was concerned and on this ship, one less terror was a blessing. She stayed in the cabin, afraid to go outside, but at the same time growing restless. She wanted to know what was going on, she wanted to know where Davy Jones had got to, she wanted to know a million different things and no one was telling her anything. She wasn't used to it. Bored, Sylvia went back to the only thing in the room worthy of her attention. Even the great organ had lost its appeal since she could not play it for fear of the racquet it would cause. Examining the silver heart was a silent business. She had finally worked up the courage to pick it up. The first time she did so, she held it in her hand, listening to the thudding of her heart, certain that Jones was going to burst in and be furious at her for touching what was, she suspected, something very precious, but no one burst in and her heart as well as her nerves began to settle. The silver heart was surprisingly heavy, a reassuring weight. The metal warmed quickly in her hands and Sylvia found herself imagining herself in the position of the original owner. Had she given it to Davy Jones as a token of love or a reminder of days gone by? Or had he taken it? Stolen a part of her to keep forever. The fancy began to fade, it was hard to imagine Davy Jones falling in love with anyone let alone anyone being crazy enough to fall in love with him. But, Sylvia reminded herself, he must once have been a normal person, like her, like Jack.

"Oh Jack…" she sighed unhappily as she went to put the heart back down where she had found it. She had just placed it down when the top of it flipped open displaying a series of cogs and wheels, all turning, and suddenly the room was filled with music. Soft, gentle music. She was mesmerised by it immediately, the tune was almost hypnotising. Realising with a start what she was doing, Sylvia snapped the music box shut quickly deadening the sound instantly. She held her breath but it seemed no one else had heard a thing.

♠♥♣

Elizabeth watched her husband leave the house from an upstairs window. The children were still playing, unaware that their mother was watching their father walk out of their lives. It would be hard on them, she knew. Will knew that too, and yet he had chosen to go. Men always had the right to chose. If they wanted to go, they went. If they wanted to stay, they stayed. What of women? A mother could not leave her children, a wife could not leave her husband. Society frowned on such women. Women had to fight for everything they got and Elizabeth intended to fight the hardest of all.

♠♥♣

"Jack!" Jack looked down to see Will hurrying towards the Pearl.

"Ah, so Lizzie let you come after all." Will cleared his throat clumsily. "Ah," said Jack in an understanding way, "Welcome aboard."

"So, what's the plan?" asked Will the moment his boots touched the deck. He was ready and raring to go, not much point in being anything else now that he had made the decision to accompany Jack. He knew Elizabeth would be angry, but more than that he knew she would be upset. She would understand when they returned with Sylvia safe and sound, Elizabeth was just as concerned for their friends' safety as he was. If it wasn't for the children, Will was sure that she would have jumped at the chance for another adventure. Forcing his guilt down to the pit of his stomach, Will walked over to where Jack was standing, compass in hand.

"Ah Will," he said, "Hold this." He slapped the compass onto Will's palm where it swung round to point back the way they had come. Jack looked knowingly at him.

"You could still go back," he said. They weren't far from land yet, if he had to Will knew he could swim for it.

"No," he said, "Not until Sylvia is safe. This compass is broken." Jack rolled his eyes.

"Contrary to popular opinion, I am not a complete idiot," he said testily, "What would be the use in carrying round a broken compass? It doesn' point North, tis true…"

"So what does it point to?" asked Will. Port Royal? Surely not.

"It points to what you want most in the world," said Jack dramatically, "Now...stop thinking about Elizabeth and focus on the task at hand."

"Which is?" asked Will. He had forgotten just how confusing a conversation with Jack could be.

"There's only one person I know who would know what we want to know," Jack said staring hard at the compass. "Concentrate, Mr Turner, this isn't a game. What you want most is information about Davy Jones that could save Sylvia so you can get back to yer bonnie lass." Will focused on what Jack had told him. They needed to find out more about Davy Jones. Where could they go to find such information? Where? Where? The compass needle swung in a complete circle and then settled in a north easterly direction.

"Perfect!" said Jack snatching the compass and snapping it shut, "Mr Gibbs, we have our heading."

"But Jack, who is it we're going to see?" Will thought this was a pertinent question but Jack chose to ignore him, focussing instead on giving Gibbs the required navigational information. As soon as he was finished with that, he disappeared and Will decided that he would just have to ask him later. The sun was climbing higher in the sky as the sails billowed above him. It was almost midday on the second day, Will hoped that they would have enough time for whatever Jack had in mind. On the third day, Davy Jones was coming for them. It was not a heartening thought. Will saw Marty struggling with something and decided to join him, knowing that the vertically challenged pirate would die before he asked for help. If he kept really busy, maybe he would not think of Elizabeth, Tom and Laura waiting for him at home. Maybe.

♠♥♣

Sylvia could hear a great deal of activity going on the deck but she dared not see what was going on. No one had come in to see her, not even Bill, though her hopes had risen every time she had heard footsteps. Not once had she heard the characteristic clunk, clunk of Davy Jones' approach, yet she could feel his presence in the air making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He was nearby, she knew it. Finally she could stand it no longer. She was sick of being constantly on the edge, if something was going to happen then let it happen. She stood up and walked to the door, wavering for just a second before pushing it open. No one saw her slip from the room and creep to where most of the crew were gathered.

"You know the penalty for disobeying orders," snarled Maccus, Sylvia had no difficulty recognising his shark face. He had his back to her and was obscuring the person he was talking to. The others around him were jeering. There was a brief struggle but the victim was soon overpowered.

"You heard the Captain," said Maccus his glee sickening to see, "There was no to be no contact with the girl. Bolson, five lashes ought to do it." Sylvia pressed her hand around her mouth to stop herself from gasping. The crowd did not need to part for her to know how was about to be punished. Only one person had come to see her. Only one person had shown her an ounce of kindness and that man was about to be hurt for it, for her! She could see the creature called Bolson preparing to exact Bill Turner's sentence. There was only a brief window for someone to step up and challenge the fairness of this judgement, and no one else was speaking up. Knowing she would not be able to live with herself if she didn't try, Sylvia ran forwards.

"Stop!" Heads of every size and shape turned to face her. She tried not to let the fear in but there was too much horror around her. She could see Bootstrap now, being held by two others. He had turned to look at her too, and in his eyes she saw terror.

"Please," she said, "This punishment isn't fair." Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Sylvia felt her breath freeze in her lungs. _Oh God… _Davy Jones appeared and it was quite clear he knew exactly what was going on. He directed his first question at Sylvia.

"What are you doin' interfering with the crew's business?"

"I…I…" Sylvia hated herself for it but she could not stop stammering. She was a lot more afraid of Davy Jones on the deck surrounded by his crew than she had been alone with him. "I…I…"

"Out with it, I haven' got all day," said Jones maliciously. A few of the crew laughed, Maccus among them.

"I didn't want to see someone get punished on my account," Sylvia finally managed to say, "He didn't do anything wrong." She snuck a quick look over at Bootstrap and realised for the first time that by getting involved she might have put him in a worse position than before.

"Is that so?" said Jones. He looked over at Bootstrap with a thinly veiled expression of disgust.

"Mr Turner, did you or did you not disobey my order?" Bootstrap hung his head but the reply was clear.

"I did disobey it, sir."

"There," said Jones, "He admits it. Now, what say you let my crew do what they're condemned to do?" Sylvia almost shrieked as a cold, slimy tentacle wrapped itself around her wrist and pulled her backwards out of the way. Though it released her quickly, she could still feel its touch long, long afterwards. Sylvia went to return to the cabin but Jones was in her way, quite deliberately.

"Yer goin' t' watch this," he said. There would be no argument. Sylvia's heart sank through the floor as she forced herself to look. When the first blow struck, she could not contain her cry. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the cries that followed but no one stifled Bootstrap's screams as skin and flesh peeled away with every swing. When five blows had been delivered, he collapsed, his back a bloodied mess. Sylvia ran past Jones. As soon as she reached the cabin with its towering organ, she threw herself upon the floor and sobbed. Once more, Davy Jones listened to the sounds of her misery. His mind full of blood and tears, he was as close to happy as a man without a heart could ever be.

* * *

A/N: My DMC count is now officially five. Craziness, I know! I simply can't get enough of it. Does anyone else really want a pet kraken or is that just me? Heehee.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter,you know I love tohear your opinions.I'll update as soon as I can when I get back. Until then!


	4. The Third Day

A/N: I'm back! And I had a lovely holiday, wish I was still watching the sun set across the sea but alas, all good things must come to an end. Here's the next chapter...

Chapter Four: The Third Day

Sylvia had been dry eyed for about an hour. She knew she must look a mess, in a dress that was now grimy with dirt, with hair that had long since become matted and unkempt, and with eyes that she knew must be red and bloodshot. But there was no one here she cared to impress, there was no one she wanted to look beautiful for but Jack. And where was he? The third day was creeping towards them all, would Jack come for her? Her heart ached to doubt him, but Davy Jones' words had struck cords deep within her. Did Jack really care for the Black Pearl more than he cared for her? Did he value his own life over hers? And what if he did return? What then? There was no compromise, no way of being together. It was her soul or his. Sylvia knew her own heart well enough to know that she could not live without Jack. He was her life. She knew it was dangerous to give yourself to someone the way she had given herself to Jack but the year they had just spent together had been magical, it could never have been like that if she had been worried about keeping something in reserve. She loved him, that was all that had mattered.

Sylvia stood up, the last few minutes thought had been entirely her own and it had made a few important things very clear. She loved Jack. She had faith in him. She should never have listened to the poisonous words of a man who was so hurt he could no longer feel love, no longer feel any of the things that make life worth living. Davy Jones was a man without a heart, misery was his drug of choice and she would not let him have it from her any longer. For this day at least, she would resist his power and allow herself to love Jack without doubt and without fear. She could survive anything for one day.

The ship was silent as Sylvia pushed open the door and stepped out. Even the wind and the waves seemed to have died to nothing. Sylvia slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot along the slimy deck so that her footsteps made no sound. She passed sleeping crew men, their bodies looking even more like marine creatures when they were barely moving. No one seemed to be awake except the one man at the helm. With a leaping heart, Sylvia recognised him at once. She hurried up the steps, careful to avoid treading on any of the assembled barnacles. Bootstrap turned before she could reach him. She stopped, guilt grabbing hold of her hard. What a way to be paid for kindness.

"I'm sorry," she said. Bootstrap gave her a small, sad smile.

"I'm used to it," he said adding, "You didn't get hurt, did you?" Sylvia shook her head. So far, at least, no one had laid a finger on her. She hoped that Jack would arrive before she had to take that back. Bootstrap turned back to the helm and began gently guiding the ghostly ship through the gloom. Sylvia moved forwards a little. She loved being at the helm of the Pearl. Jack even let her take a turn on duty every now and then when the weather was calm and they weren't in a rush to get anywhere. She wished he would trust her more with important duties, she felt she knew enough now, but the only person Jack really trusted with his ship was Gibbs.

"You want a go?" Bootstrap asked. He had a very quiet voice, in contrast to almost everyone else on board who all shouted and snarled instead of talking. Sylvia had not forgotten she was a prisoner but the chance to steer the Flying Dutchman was an opportunity no sailor, pirate or not, would have turned down in a hurry. The helm itself was slimy like the wood beneath her feet which made it hard to get a good purchase on it but she soon got used to it.

♠♥♣

Bootstrap stayed close by her side, knowing that if anyone was to see her steering the ship it would be him paying the penalty once again. He could see why the Captain had agreed so readily to change the terms of his agreement, something he did so rarely that it had been all the crew had talked about for the past few days. Sylvia was a lovely woman, in all respects. She exuded a sort of vitality and innocence that reminded Bootstrap forcibly of his late wife, the woman who had borne his only son.

"What deal did you make with Davy Jones?" Sylvia's questions broke through his thoughts. He was surprised to find that someone was talking to him, it had been a long time since he had heard anything but orders barked in his direction.

"The same deal everyone makes," said Bootstrap sadly, "Only it was not fear of death that drove me to it but the fact I could not die."

"Couldn't die?" Sylvia looked at him briefly, not in disbelief but with curiosity. Bootstrap supposed that she understood a lot more than most people having sailed with Jack Sparrow. Odd things seemed to be attracted to that man.

"Did Jack ever tell you about the Isla de Meurta?" he asked. By the way Sylvia's face lit up in comprehension, he knew that she had been told.

"Bootstrap Bill," she said under her breath, "Bootstrap Bill! I remember now! Barbossa…was that his name?" Bootstrap nodded, the memory razor sharp. "He had you thrown overboard for siding with Jack, is that right?"

"I stood up for him," said Bootstrap, "But only after the mutiny. I should have done more. Of course, Barbossa didn't take kindly to my change of heart so he sent a cannon down to the depths and me along with it. I had no hope of escape. When Davy Jones offered me his deal, it sounded like a lifeline, the way out I had been hoping for."

"Wait!" said Sylvia suddenly excited, "Bootstrap Bill Turner. William Turner. That's right! I know your son." Bootstrap felt everything inside him freeze.

"My son? William?" Sylvia beamed, pleased with herself and the coincidence she had just discovered.

"Yes," she said, "Will Turner. He is a friend of Jack's." Bootstrap's face fell. A friend of Jack's could only mean one thing.

"So he's a pirate after all…"

"Well, no," said Sylvia surprised, "He's a blacksmith, actually, and he's married to the Governor of Port Royal's daughter, Elizabeth Swann." Bootstrap had not had enough time to let this sink in before Sylvia said, "They have two children, Tom and Laura."

"He's really made something of himself then," Bootstrap said. It had been a very long time since he had felt pride in anything. "I'm glad." There was a long silence punctuated only by a series of snores from someone nearby. Sylvia shivered.

"You should return to the cabin if you are cold," said Bootstrap.

"I'd rather not," said Sylvia, "The further I am from _him_ the better." Bootstrap smiled. He could understand that. The furthest he was likely to get was the end of the ship. He winced as he moved and was reminded of the fierce punishment he had been given. Sylvia noticed but chose not to speak of it, something which Bootstrap was grateful for. He knew he would do exactly the same thing again if he needed to.

"How well do you know Jack?" Sylvia asked, quietly. Bootstrap considered this question. There had been a time when he could have claimed to know Jack Sparrow very well, better than most men, that was for sure.

"I knew him well some time ago," he answered, "Good man, good pirate."

"Did he…does he…?" Sylvia stopped abruptly and stared at him. "You told me to do what Davy Jones said. I didn't...I never doubted Jack until I listened to that man." Bootstrap took hold of the helm which Sylvia, in her distress, had been about to let go. He gently turned it so they were back on course before attempting a reply. Sylvia waited patiently, the agony of a torn heart playing across her face.

"I told you to do what he says, I never told you to listen to him." Sylvia smiled desolately acknowledging her mistake.

"Never listen to a man without a heart, huh?"

♠♥♣

Will sat down in the longboat with Jack, Gibbs, Cotton and Marty. Jack was unusually jumpy, and kept checking his compass then snapping his shut looking discontented. Will still did not know who they were going to see. He'd tried asking Gibbs but he had just said something about 'seeing _her_' and then looking at Jack had closed his mouth right up. They were headed for a river through a dense forest. Will could hear the calls of monkeys and exotic birds from the canopy above. He thought he saw something slide into the water from the bank but it disappeared too quickly for him to identify it. They seemed to be rowing for a long time, Jack obsessively checking his compass every thirty seconds. The river got narrower and narrower and houses began to appear, raised up above the murky water by stilts. There were figures in some of the doorways, dark shapes watching them without a word. Jack paid them no mind but Will noticed the way the others all shot furtive glances to their left and right avoiding prolonged eye contact with anyone.

"There," said Jack speaking his first word for about an hour. He pointed over to one of the huts. Will tried to catch his eye but he was checking the compass again, looking troubled. When the boat pulled up alongside the narrow mooring point, Jack was the first one off.

"I'll take it from here," he said and was climbing the ladder up to the front door before any of them could argue. Will shot a look at Gibbs and they both agreed without words that they should follow.

♠♥♣

Jack looked in through one of the glassless panels of the front door. Some things had changed but not enough to ward off the wave of reminiscence. He could almost see the shadow of himself in the corner agreeing to a deal that he should never have listened to. Tia Dalma had rushed in but by that time it was too late, the Black Pearl was raised and his soul from that moment was on borrowed time.

"No one home?" Will startled him.

"I don' know yet," snapped Jack, "I thought I said…" Will ignored him and pushed open the door. Jack had to push him out of the way to enter first. A yellow snake hissed beside him. Jack stared at it for a moment then he heard movement. From behind a beaded curtain appeared a person Jack knew very well indeed. Her dress looked like it was made of forest and swamp, her hair was the same wild mess it had always been and her wide smile was exactly the same.

"Jack Sparrow," she drawled in her lilting Jamaican accent, playing out his name luxuriously, "I always knew de wind be blowing ye back t' me one day." Her hips swayed as she sauntered over, her hands ever ready to speak before her mouth did.

"Tia Dalma," said Jack, fearing and liking the warm feeling she gave him in equal measure, "It's been a while."

"Aye," said Tia as she ran her hand down his face just like she used to all those years ago, "Too long." Will, ever ready to ruin the moment, cleared his throat making Tia look up.

"You," she said walking over to him quickly, "Destiny been waitin' a long time fer you, William Turner." Will looked more than a little disconcerted as Tia stroked his cheek.

"I'm married," he spluttered stupidly. Tia grinned.

"Yes," she said, "To the former Miss Swann, isn't it? Ye be missin' her, and she be missin' you, if yer not careful ye'll miss each other." While Will tried to figure out what this meant, Jack steered Tia back to him.

"We need yer help," he said.

"Aye," said Tia moving over to a table covered in weird and wonderful objects ranging from strangely shaped shells to a jar labelled 'monkey claws'. "Ye never did come t' visit me lest ye had a need o' somethin'." She sat down, and cast her dark eyes over them all, considering each one carefully. Jack remembered that look, and he knew how deeply her eyes could pierce, the sooner he laid their business on the table the better.

"Tia, I need to know everythin' you know 'bout Davy Jones." Tia looked up at him sharply.

"Davy Jones?" she repeated, eyes narrowing, "How long has it been, Jack? 'Dem years pass quick, don' they?"

"Everythin' ye know, luv, sometime today." Tia gave him a warning look before reaching into a bag of sand beside her and blowing it onto a clear space on the table. She studied it for a few seconds and then her eyes widened.

"I done tell you all I know thirteen years ago. Der isn't a way to do what ye want t' do. You done make a deal wit' him. Ain' no way t' break it lest he done change 'is mind, an' yer soul's worth more t' 'him den most, Jack Sparrow. I done tell you this years ago…"

"There's got t' be a way," said Jack cutting her off. He was beginning to feel empty, like someone had scooped out his insides and forgotten to replace them. Tia took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on Will once more.

"Don' let dem go," she said to him, "If they done go, one of them may not be comin' back." Will opened his mouth to respond but Tia turned her attention straight back to Jack.

"I cannot find de way fer you, someone else will, but Davy Jones will have yer soul, one way or de other." And with that discomforting promise, Tia got to her feet.

"De third day is upon ye, Jack Sparrow. Davy Jones awaits."

"Wait," said Will, "I thought you said she could help us, Jack." Jack shrugged weakly, everyone was wrong sometimes. Deep down, he had known all along that there was no way out of the situation that would suit everyone. He only had one priority now: get Sylvia out. Tia Dalma was watching him through eyes that always saw more than what was in front of them.

"I done tell you what would 'appen should ye make a deal with de Devil," she said gravely, "You no listen t' me then. Maybe ye'll listen from now on." She scattered some shiny black stones on top of the sand strewn wooden table and regarded them thoughtfully. Jack waited for her to make some sort of pronouncement but when none was forthcoming he knew they had got all the information they were likely to get. With a sinking heart, Jack led the way back to the boat.

♠♥♣

"Well, that was useless," said Will as they made their way back to the Black Pearl. Jack, who had been staring into the water, didn't respond. Gibbs nudged him in the ribs bringing him back to Earth.

"Huh?"

"What's the plan, Cap'n?" Jack trailed his hand in the water.

"Yer guess is as good as mine," he said wearily. Will frowned. This lack of fighting spirit was most unlike Jack. Did Tia Dalma's bizarre predictions really mean that much to him?

"How do you know that woman?" Will asked.

"Tia?" Jack asked absently, "Oh, we go way back…" But further than that, he did not explain leaving Will to contemplate the answer alone. His thoughts soon slipped back to Elizabeth. _Ye be missin' her, and she be missin' you, if yer not careful ye'll miss each other. _Will wished he had asked Tia Dalma what she had meant by that. He didn't know why he couldn't just dismiss her words as nonsense. Perhaps because the first part was so painfully true, and the fact that Tia had known his and Elizabeth's names without being told. As soon as they found a solution to this Davy Jones business and Sylvia was safe, he was going to head straight back to Port Royal. Things would go back to the way they had been, wouldn't they? Elizabeth would forgive him for going to the aid of a friend, wouldn't she? He shivered as a sudden cold breeze washed over them all. _Wait for me, Elizabeth._

♠♥♣

Reluctantly, Sylvia returned to the cabin and was waiting there when the door opened. Maccus sneered at her, his terrible triangular teeth just waiting to rip into something.

"Cap'n wants you t' know there's been no sign o' the Pearl." Sylvia did not rise to the bait. Just because there had been no sign yet didn't mean there wouldn't be. It was still early, there was no need to panic. Jack was not going to leave her. Have faith.

"Is that all?" she asked curtly.

"Ye'll 'ave t' learn t' keep a civil tongue in that pretty 'ead of yers," he said, "Or ye'll feel the sting o' the lash an' no mistake." Sylvia almost fired something back at him but thought better of it. She was only going to be here for a few more hours at most. She had to keep herself safe until then. Staying out so long with Bootstrap had been risk enough for both of them, now it was her time to tow the line and do exactly what she was told.

"Cap'n'll be along t' see ye shortly," said Maccus, his eyes still ogling her greedily. Sylvia looked away. Shortly afterwards, she heard Maccus retreat and she was left alone once more. Refusing to let herself contemplate one more day in this rotten prison let alone an eternity, Sylvia sought a way of distracting herself but there were only the same old things, the organ and the music box. The music box was the safer option in terms of avoiding attention, or so Sylvia thought. She picked it up, weighing it in her hand. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine its previous owner but all she got was a blank space in her mind. She was just about to put it back down again when a heavy clunk, clunk, clunk caused her heart to skip. She moved too fast and the metal heart flew from her hand and landed with a thump on the floor, the lid sprang open as it slid across the damp wood and it came to a stop, still playing its soft melody, by the now open door. Davy Jones listened to the tiny instrument for several long seconds. Sylvia did not breathe. She was sure that he was going to explode.

"Pick it up," he said very quietly. Sylvia almost flew to obey him. Her fingers were trembling as she picked up the music box, thanking everything she could think of that it was not broken or even scratched from its fall.

"Close it," said Jones in the same quiet voice. Sylvia did so and immediately there was silence. She realised in the same instant how close she was standing to him, but she dared not take a step backwards. Her heart was thumping painfully hard. Could he hear it? Did he know how frightened she was? Davy Jones took the music box from her, and she could not help a small whimper from escaping her lips as his cold, slimy skin touched hers. When he moved away to put the heart back where she had found it, Sylvia remained rooted to the spot. The place where he had touched her felt cold, and the cold was spreading up her arm, snaking its way deeper inside her. She wanted to scream but could not make a noise, she wanted to run but could not move. One touch was all it had taken to paralyse her and strip her of the protection Jack's love had given.

♠♥♣

Davy hated touching it, the feel of it on his hand reminded him too forcefully of when it had been pressed onto his palm by… _Don't. Don't let yourself think of that time. Don't let yourself remember._ The girl, Sylvia, was waiting for him to do something. He watched her stand there, her nerves on edge. There was anger swelling up inside him, and something else, something darker than anger, stronger than hate.

"Cap'n!" Davy Jones was jolted back from the edge of the dark abyss by Maccus. "A ship's been spotted on the horizon, Cap'n. A ship with black sails." Davy did not fail to see the thrill of hope that ran through Sylvia.

"You will stay here," he instructed her coldly. She issued no protest, too relieved to have escaped harm for a few minutes at least.

♠♥♣

Jack had no problem with his compass now he wanted to find Sylvia but with the Dutchman looming closer he was reminded that he had no options, nothing but the stark choice Davy Jones had laid on the table. The crew were still awaiting their final instructions, expecting him to conjure up some miraculous escape out of thin air but he could not see a way out of this one and his usual tactic of stirring up trouble and hoping to escape in the fray had not worked the first time, so there was no real chance of it working again here. Will had suggested an all out attack but Jack had immediately ruled that out. Sylvia was still on the Dutchman, and until she was safe no one was to do so much as draw a sword.

"Jack?" It was Gibbs, the pallor of his skin a sure indication of which way he believed the oncoming confrontation to swing.

"A hundred years isn' really tha' long…" Jack said trying and failing to make light of the situation.

"It'll fly by," Gibbs said forcing a smile. Jack unhooked his compass from his belt, took one last look at it, then held it out to his first mate.

"Cap'n?" Gibbs looked horrified. "Yer not really goin' through with this?" Jack shrugged.

"I don' see there bein' another way," he said, "You 'eard Tia. You ever known 'er t' be wrong?"

"But Jack…"

"You gonna take me compass or not? Jones isn't gettin' his slimy hands on it." Gibbs wiped his grubby hands on his shirt before taking the compass in both hands.

"Until ye get back," he said.

"Aye," said Jack.

The two ships slid alongside each other, the two crews facing each other. Davy Jones locked eyes with Jack and then appeared in front of him, merely a pace apart. Jack hated the way he did that, giving a man no warning was unsporting, but it was the kind of thing he would do if he could. He could see Will out of the corner of his eye, he wondered whether his own expression had been similar the first time he had set eyes on Davy Jones, the sight of him now was depressingly familiar.

"So, Jack," he said relishing, as ever, his position of absolute power, "What's it goin' t' be?"

"Where's Sylvia?" Jack's hand was curling around his pistol. He knew it would do no good but it made him feel better. "If ye've laid a ha -…anything on her I'll…"

"Ye'll what?" asked Jones, "Smite me with yer sword?" Davy viewed Jack sceptically. "Even yer not that stupid." Jones turned very slightly to include Will in his field of view. "And who be this? A new addition to yer crew, perhaps a replacement fer…?"

"I want t' see Sylvia," Jack interrupted. Jones rolled his eyes.

"Bring out the girl."

♠♥♣

Sylvia pulled away from Maccus' slippery grip. She could walk unaided, thank you. She stood on the deck, and saw Jack at once. Their simultaneous grins told her exactly what she wanted to know. Jack had never had any intention of leaving her there, and she should be ashamed for letting herself believe it. She wanted to run to him but there was about ten metres separating the two boats and no gangplank connecting them. Suddenly, she felt Maccus grip her hard on the arm and she found herself in the very place she had wanted so badly to be only she was still being held by a shark-man and Davy Jones was closer to her than Jack was.

"Let go of me," she said trying to extract her arm but Maccus would not listen to anyone's orders but his Captain's, he had probably learnt from bitter experience.

"Yer decision, Jack," prompted Jones. Sylvia stomach flipped. So Jack had not found a way to get out of paying Jones with a soul, that was very bad news.

"Jack? Don't," she said. Maccus' grip on her tightened to bruising strength. She could see Jack desperately searching for way out but Jones only had so much patience.

"Time's up, Jack. Make yer move or I'll be forced into makin' it for ye." Sylvia saw Jack's hand slide off his gun. He was looking at her now, expression unreadable.

"Take the Pearl and go," he said. Sylvia stepped up her efforts to get to him but Maccus yanked her backwards which made Jack step towards her but Jones cut across him and suddenly Jack was choking, Jones' claw around his throat. The crew reached for their weapons but nobody fired, they knew it would do no good. Sylvia's mind was racing.

"One hundred years, Jack," said Jones as Jack fought to breathe, "Yer soul belongs to…"

"Stop!" Sylvia screamed. She had no time to think anything through, she had no time to consider anything but the fact that Jack was about to be taken from her. "Let Jack go and I'll…I'll spend the night with you."

A great chorus of gasps rose like wave around them all. Even Jack, choking as he was, managed to look at her, horror in his dark eyes. Curiously, only Davy Jones himself seemed unmoved, even Maccus' jaw had dropped.

"Ye realise tha' if that's what I wanted, I could 'ave already taken it," he said coolly without releasing Jack.

"I know," said Sylvia quickly, "But you didn't…that wasn't part of the deal, if you agree to this I'll give you everything, body and soul."

"Sylvia!" Gibbs was staring at her as if she had gone mad. Maybe she had, love was a kind of madness after all, and she couldn't see another way. Sylvia refused to look at him, she refused to look at anyone but Davy Jones. If she was going to do this, she could not face their recrimination before the event. All she needed was for Jones to agree. _Please let him agree. Please._

"Hm…" said Jones evidently drawing out the suspense for the sheer pleasure of it, "I wonder what Jack thinks of this little development."

"You…dare…" Jack said with what little breath he had left. Jones smiled and Sylvia felt the most bizarre sensation of boundless joy and sickening horror at once.

"Well, Captain Sparrow," he hissed so only Jack could hear, "It looks like you're going to be givin' yer soul t' me after all." And without another word, he threw Jack to the floor.

"You, lass, have a deal."

♠♥♣

A/N: Why won't the line drawing button work? A mystery. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, do let me know! I planned a lot of the story while I was on holiday (long journeys are pretty good for that kind of thing) so hopefully I won't go a-wandering. Heehee.


	5. One Night

A/N: Hi everyone. This past week has not been a good one for me, lots of family arguements. Fortunately I had this world to escape to when things got really rough. Pirates always makes me feel a little better!

♠♥♣

Chapter Five: One Night 

There was no force on Earth that could have stopped Jack from reaching for his pistol this time. He aimed it straight at Davy Jones's head and squeezed the trigger but Jones was already gone by the time the bullet left the gun. Every member of Jones's crew was now back on their rightful ship, and they had taken Sylvia with them. The laughter of the sea-phantoms filled the air as the Flying Dutchman made preparations to sail away. Jack did not see the size of the gap growing between the two ships, all he saw was him on one side and Sylvia on the other. Will stepped in front of him, eager to stop him from doing something stupid, dangerous or both but Jack was beyond being reasoned with. He would have sold his soul a hundred thousand times before he would let Sylvia go through with an agreement like this. He pushed Will out of the way, not caring that the boy fell awkwardly, but the time it had taken to get rid of him had put enough distance between the Pearl and the Dutchman to render jumping from one to the other impossible. The Dutchman was sailing into the wind, her speciality. Jack knew they would never catch her but that did not mean he was going to stop trying. His orders were obeyed almost before they had left his mouth.

"You heard the man!" shouted Gibbs, "Keep on the Dutchman's tail or there'll be the Devil to pay." But the Dutchman was getting further and further away every second, carried by enchantments that even the Black Pearl could not best. Jack could only watch as it disappeared into a rapidly gathering fog that had rolled in out of nowhere. She was lost and it was going to kill him.

♠♥♣

The hand holding the pistol was shaking. Will would have been worried but he had seen it go off once so knew it would not be going off again. The Flying Dutchman was no more than a dot on the horizon, soon to disappear completely. Jack was locked into position, his gaze fixed on it, his breathing too fast and too forced. He was going to snap, Will could feel it. There was a terrible trembling in the air that was holding all of them captive, like the promise of a furious storm. Everything had happened so fast that it was only now that the truth was sinking in. Sylvia, lovely, harmless Sylvia, had sacrificed herself for Jack, only not in the way any of them had expected and somehow this was worse. Gibbs came up beside him, exchanging a worried glance. _What do we do?_

"Keep following the Dutchman," said Will in a low voice, "No matter how far away from us she gets." Gibbs nodded, glad no doubt to have something to do to keep himself busy. The rest of the crew seemed to take heart from Will taking control which left him to deal with the still rigid Jack. Very carefully, Will approached him, making sure that he made enough noise to ensure his appearance would not be a surprise.

"Jack?" he said gently, "Put the gun down." Jack did exactly what he was told, lowering his arm and dropping the gun on the deck but not once did he take his eyes off the shrinking Dutchman. Will very gently put his arm around Jack's shoulders and turned him away. Jack put up no resistance until Will tried to get him to move towards his cabin and even then it was only a momentary hesitation. It was too easy to get Jack to pass by his overly busy crew and direct him into the room where he could be alone. Will was braced for an explosion any moment but it never came. The electric clouds overhead were still there but only a fine rain was falling, the kind of rain that might choose to rain forever. Will closed the cabin door behind them as Jack sank, limply, onto the only chair in the room. Colour had drained from his usually ruddy face, leaving it looking starkly black and white, and the usual spark of life that drew everyone in was quenched. Will had heard Davy Jones' final words to Jack, the bastard had known exactly what would happen.

"Will?" Jack's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, Jack?"

"I want t' be alone." Will, who had been eager to follow any request, was not keen on obeying this one. He did not think it wise for Jack to be alone at a time like this, but he had no desire to be the one to cause the storm to break.

"Ok, Jack," he said laying a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I'll be back later, ok? Just call if you need anything."

♠♥♣

Jack had seen people die before. He had watched as people fell lifeless in front of him, by his own hand and by the hands of others. He had seen friends fall for his sake and yet he had never felt more empty than he did right now. The moment Davy Jones had released him something had been born inside him, a darkness so intense that no light would ever penetrate it and the darkness was eating him from the inside. This was more than jealousy, more than fury, more than grief; it was knives and claws and teeth tearing at his heart, ripping it open and feasting on it. Yet the pain was almost welcome compared to the deadened feeling that was spreading through the rest of him. Was this what it felt like to be a body without a soul? Or was this the reason men gave their souls away? There was no way he could save Sylvia from the fate that awaited her. There was no way he would be able to think of anything else. There was no way he would ever be able to forgive himself for doing this to her. There was no way this pain was ever going to fade; it would just go on and on and on until it killed him or everyone else.

He did not remember how the knife came to be in his hands, all he knew was what he intended to do with it. He rolled up the sleeve of his left hand, already mazed with scars from wounds others had taken it upon themselves to inflict. This time he would be his own nemesis, this time he would be the one to spill his own blood. He turned his hand so it was palm up and clenched his fist. There was no pain as the blade slide into the skin. He scored a line, three inches long, onto the pale skin. Even as the blood rose up, shining crimson, he felt nothing. Then came the sting, delayed but enough to make him wince and almost draw back the knife. The pain was welcome, he needed it. But no amount of blood was going to make Sylvia return unharmed. No amount of pain was going to stop the darkness from growing deep down inside him, spreading and multiplying. Nine cuts later and Jack put the blood stained knife down. His arm felt weak, but the rest of him was beginning to feel stronger as blood ran down soaking the wood on which his arm rested.

♠♥♣

They had long since lost sight of the Dutchman but Gibbs kept to the course he suspected they had travelled, but progress was almost none existent. The Dutchman had sailed straight into the wind, the Black Pearl fought against this course wanting to go the direction which would fill her great sails and make her soar. Still Gibbs persisted, coaxing her forwards a little at a time, talking to her as if she had a spirit and a heart as real as his own. When he saw Will he called the lad over.

"How is Jack?" he asked. Will ran his hand over Jack's pistol which was, for now, tucked into his own belt. That was answer enough.

"Who's with 'im now?" Gibbs enquired.

"No one," said Will, "I left him alone."

"You what!" Gibbs pulled Will over to the helm and forced his hands upon it. "Ye left Jack alone with 'is thoughts at a time like this, I'm surprised at ye Will!"

"I took his gun," Will said faintly.

"Aye," said Gibbs unable to stop from scowling at him, "Thank 'eaven for small mercies." And with that he left the Pearl in Will's capable hands and hurried down to Jack's cabin in the hope that what he found there would not be too terrible.

♠♥♣

Jack was not asleep, but nor was he awake, he was drifting on a layer of blank thoughts. He didn't hear the knock at the door, nor did he hear it creak as it opened without his command.

"Holy mother and child…Jack?" Jack slowly looked up, unfocused eyes sliding over Gibbs. He wished he was drunk and that this was all some kind of nightmare that cold water would be quick to wake him up from. Sylvia would scold him for drinking too much and he would kiss her instead of saying sorry. Only there was no Sylvia, only Gibbs and his horrified mutterings.

"What have ye done t' yerself?" Gibbs was asking him. Jack did not like this new feeling of rushing back to the present, everything was hurting too much. Gibbs reached for the stained knife but Jack got there first. He wasn't having anything else taken from him. The speed of his reaction must have surprised Gibbs because he jumped back a little but was quick to return.

"Jack, yer arm…it looks bad." Jack looked at it. It was nothing. Just a few shallow cuts and lots of dried blood. He'd had worse. He'd taken worse for her.

"Why did ye let her do that?" Gibbs blinked.

"Me? I…er…" Thinking on his feet was usually one of Gibbs' strong points but not today.

"Why did ye let her leave with…_him_?"

"I didn'…I don' think anyone could 'a stopped her, Jack. She made up her mind an'…"

"No!" Jack shouted, "You should have stopped her! Will should have stopped her. I should have…" He grabbed an empty bottle that was lying on top of the map on his desk and threw it hard. Gibbs ducked and the bottle shattered on the door behind his head. A wise man might have chosen to leave at this point but Gibbs stayed put, wise men don't always make the best friends.

"Let me wrap up tha' arm of yers, Jack, or it'll turn nasty." The anger left Jack as fast as it had come, leaving him disconsolate. He allowed Gibbs to clean and bandage his arm without a murmur, though he still would not allow him to remove the knife.

"At least let me clean it," said Gibbs attempting to reach the soiled blade and finally Jack relented.

"Ye know, Jack," he said as he polished the blade until it shone, "That Sylvia loves ye more than anythin'." Jack closed his eyes. He didn't want to listen but Gibbs continued regardless. "She be doin' this t' save yer life, to save the both of ye. You know Davy Jones as well as I do, he's a man of 'is word, make no mistake."

"A man of his word," echoed Jack, "Then he should 'ave taken me and been done with it." Gibbs put the dagger down out of Jack's reach.

"Aye," he said softly, "Perhaps he should but it's as maybe that this'll turn out t' be the happier conclusion." Jack glared at him. "I mean t' say tha' with no one's souls being owed, we might go back t' the way we were a mite sooner," Gibbs corrected hastily. Jack stared long and hard at the blue stoned ring on his left hand that Sylvia had bought him a few months ago, even the shine of the jewel seemed duller now. He couldn't bear to look at it so off it came. He wouldn't put it back on until she was back. He wouldn't look at it until she was back.

"Jack, maybe ye should get some rest," Gibbs suggested delicately. But Jack knew he would not sleep tonight, not when out across the water, in the company of evil greater than she had ever known, his precious Sylvia was not sleeping either.

♠♥♣

Sylvia ran her hand through her tangled hair, working through the knots gently so as not to pull at her scalp. There was no reason to attempt to improve her appearance except to keep herself occupied. Every so often she would draw in a shaky breath that would bring all her panic and fear up to the surface, then she would exhale and force it down again. Absurdly, memories of the first time she had slept with Jack kept rising forwards. The Pearl all to themselves, the storm raging outside, Jack's kisses on her stomach, the feeling of being in a dream and knowing she never wanted to lie with anyone else. Why were these memories intensifying now? Was it to deepen the torture she was about to endure? Or was it simply because she had never believed this moment would come? It had been the same whenever her husband had touched her, sometimes she would feel the loss of Jack so intensely that she would start to cry. Nathan had never noticed. Would Davy Jones count tears against her? Or was he already expecting them? She forced herself to concentrate on the knots in her hair, she could endure anything for one night. Just one night.

♠♥♣

The Captain did not appreciate being disturbed, ever, but Bootstrap knew he had to do something. Word had spread around the crew like wildfire that the woman they were supposed to be rid of was back for one night. No one needed to spell out what that meant. Bootstrap couldn't make any sense of it. If the Captain was that enamoured by her, why hadn't he taken advantage of her hostage status during the previous three days? And why would he agree to this new deal instead of gaining Jack Sparrow's soul? Bootstrap could not work it out, but he had stopped trying to find reason behind Davy Jones' decisions long ago. The man was as unpredictable and ferocious as a hurricane.

"Captain?" It was customary for Davy Jones to ignore his lower crewmen, only responding should the situation deem it necessary for him to do so.

"Captain," said Bootstrap nervously, "I need to speak with you." This request was so unusual that he was awarded with the sky blue gaze almost at once.

"About?" Jones asked, drawing the word out in a 'this better be good' kind of way. Bootstrap forced himself to continue even though everything was telling him to get out while he still could.

"About the girl…Sylvia." Jones snorted.

"Concerned, Mr Turner?" he asked sardonically, "How touching." He rolled his eyes, and looked back towards the grey seething sea. Clearly he expected Bootstrap to leave now but he could not, not without saying what he intended to say.

"Captain, she doesn't…she never…she…"

"What exactly are you trying t' say?" Jones sneered, "A deal's a deal, Mr Turner, you should know that."

"I do," said Bootstrap in a small voice aware that he was testing the Captain's patience, "But…she knows something about my son." Jones' tentacles suddenly began to writhe.

"Your son?" he asked silkily, "So am I to understand you want t' talk t' her?"

"Just for a few minutes," said Bootstrap without looking at his tormentor. There was a long silence and Bootstrap was sure he was about to be denied. He had been so swept up in the news that his son was alive and well and married and a father that he hadn't thought about passing on a message. Now all he wanted to do was speak to him in the only way he could, through Sylvia. He wished he did not want it so much because he knew the more he wanted it, the higher the price he would have to pay to get it.

"You want to talk to her?" said Jones, "Then you give me another year."

"I…" Bootstrap stammered horror-struck. Another year of servitude? Another second was too much. There was only one question really, how much did he love his son?

"Ok," he said, "I agree."

♠♥♣

Sylvia did not look round as the door to the cabin opened. If she was going to do this, she needed to approach it in a way that would keep her as calm as possible. And she had to do it, for Jack, always for Jack. A slow shuffling step should have told her who it was before he spoke but Sylvia's mind was so wound up it was unable to notice.

"Sylvia?"

"Bootstrap?" Sylvia had not thought she would smile honestly while she was on this dark, haunted ship but smile she did. "Oh Bootstrap, I am pleased to see you."

"I'm afraid," said Bootstrap, "That I'm not quite as pleased to see you. Why did you…?" Sylvia shook her head.

"Please don't," she said, "I can't think about it…I have to just face it." Bootstrap did not look like he understood but he obeyed her wish to leave the subject be.

"I…I wanted to give ye a message," he said, "For my son." Sylvia began to smooth out the many creases in her dress.

"Go on," she said softly. Bootstrap hung his head, unsure of what to say now that it came to it. He had not heard of his son for so many years, had not seen him for even longer than that. What could he say to the son he had left to go pirating? What could he say to explain the events that had led to this moment?

"Tell him I'm…tell him I'm sorry and that I think of him often. I just want him to know…to know I'm grateful to have received word of him." Sylvia smiled again, sadly.

"I will tell him," she said.

"Thank you," said Bootstrap. "I wish there was a way…"

"It's alright," Sylvia said, "One night is not so very long." But Bootstrap knew just how long one night could be. He knew all to well. He laid a very gentle hand on her arm for just a second, then turned and left, his heart heavy for her.

♠♥♣

Davy Jones watched the stars appear, one by one, until the sky was full of them. They did not bring him joy or peace or enlightenment, they brought him nothing but a faint light which to see by. He would have preferred darkness. His thoughts flew to Sparrow. It would have been easy to take him into service, but this way was so much better. He could feel their love, and it sickened him. If he took Sparrow, the girl would only love him more. Now he had the girl, he would have the pleasure of watching a love so like his own, a great love, wither and die. With a malevolent smile, Davy turned away from the ocean.

♠♥♣

The candles flickered to life without being lit. Sylvia, who had grown used to the darkness, was now surrounded by dancing shadows, contorted faces and reaching fingers that made her skin crawl. Time was ticking, but really the night was still young. Hours stretched on in front of her, an expanse of time that had never seemed so daunting. She could not bring herself to think of Jack. The look on his face as she had been led away would burn into her heart for the rest of her life.

"Yer cryin' already?" Sylvia screamed, she could not help it. Davy Jones had appeared from nowhere right beside her, watching the door had been a utterly pointless exercise. He did not seem to derive any amusement from her shock, nor did he seem in any rush to engage her in further conversation. Instead, he walked slowly to his organ and sat down. Sylvia watched him, her heart racing. She did not trust the calm, her husband had been calm but he'd turned like a wild animal. She had no desire to be caught off guard again. This was her decision, and if she was going to go through with it, she wanted to be the one in charge. Though her stomach was churning, and her palms were clammy, she forced herself to speak.

"Should I get undressed?" It was hard to ask such a question and keep her pride intact but Sylvia tried her best, determined not to have herself reduced any more than was inevitable. Jones did not reply, indeed he appeared not to have heard her. He began to play a soft tune with his right hand, just a few notes, a fragment of something much grander. Sylvia cleared her throat and tried again, the second time even harder than the first.

"Should I get undressed?" Jones stopped playing.

"Yer tryin' my patience, miss," he said, "My crew usually have the good sense not t' disturb their Captain."

"Well, I'm not your crew," said Sylvia hotly, "And forgive me for interrupting, but I wanted to…to fulfil my side of the deal." Jones sighed.

"I believe, an' I am not usually wrong in these matters, that yer deal was t' spend one night with me…now, I shall be dictating how said night will be spent and right now, that involves you keepin' quiet. If that's goin' t' be a problem fer ye, I can always…"

"I can be quiet," said Sylvia feeling her face grow hot.

"Good," said Jones and he resumed his playing. Sylvia sat down on the damp floor, the skirt of her dress fanning out around her. She knew she should feel grateful to Davy Jones but she did not want to feel grateful to him for anything. She wanted to pay his debt, free herself and Jack and never think about him again. Things were never that simple, she knew, but that was the aim. Jones' playing was getting more complex. It was beautifully played but it was not beautiful music, it was hard and challenging, impossible to relax into but difficult not to be swept up in. It made Sylvia think of ship wrecks and violent storms, bolts of lightening overhead and restless lost souls. He stopped playing quite suddenly and the silence rang with the echoes of the deepest notes. Sylvia felt moved to say something but she had no desire to distract Jones again. The silence did not last long, and this time the music was something else entirely.

♠♥♣

"_Oh Davy, don't play that," she almost begged, "It always makes me cry. Please Davy, don't…please don't." _

He ignored her, as always, trying to drown her out but never quite succeeding. The music rose to a great soaring crescendo, the lowest notes vibrating through the wooden floor, the highest soaring to join the stars. No one could play like he could. No one. Afterwards he did not move. The silence reverberated with dying notes and something else. There she was, visible to the corner of his right eye, wearing a white dress, all white, like an angel. Years of practice meant he could play better now than he had back then, yet he would never again attract a creature like her. A creature so beautiful, so beguiling…so heart breaking. He turned to face her, the pain making him angry. Usually when he looked directly at her she disappeared back into his memory to resume haunting him from within but this time she remained standing there, real and whole. It was a few seconds before Davy realised who he was really looking at.

"I'm sorry," said Sylvia in a rapturous whisper, "I couldn't…I've never heard anything like that."

"I don' doubt that," said Davy shortly, there was a time when such attention would have made him proud, but that was long, long ago. Now he felt nothing but the cold pull of an empty space nothing would ever fill. Sylvia remained standing there, closer than most people voluntarily chose to get to him.

"Where did you learn to play like that?" she asked quietly. When would have been a more appropriate question. Anyone could learn to create music, all you needed was time and a love greater than yourself. The beginning of your own destruction. It was all a lifetime ago, a time when everything was different. There was something about Sylvia that reminded him of that life. She was not a part of his world, nor a part of Jack Sparrow's, she belonged elsewhere to somewhere grander.

"Do you play?" he asked. Sylvia blanched as if she had just been issued an impossible challenge.

"Not at all well," she said hastily, "And I haven't touched an instrument for years now. I was never gifted when it came to music."

"That rather begs the question what ye were gifted at." He had not been this curious about anyone for a long time, and he was not entirely sure why this girl of all people should inspire such interest. Perhaps it was just the novelty of having someone on board his ship that had volunteered to be there to save someone else instead of themselves, the Flying Dutchman had not seen such a noble sacrifice before and would probably never do again.

"I was never designed for the life of a lady," Sylvia admitted.

"And it took a pirate to set you free," said Davy piecing the puzzle together, "Yer taste leaves a lot t' be desired." Instead of getting cross or defensive, Sylvia simply shrugged.

"You can't help who you fall in love with."

'_No_,' thought Davy as his eyes fell on the silver music box, '_You can't_.'

Sylvia saw the shudder that passed through Jones. She too felt a cold chill, as if a third presence had just passed through them both. Jack had been right about one thing. Whoever it was that Davy Jones had fallen in love with, that love was still there, like an arrow embedded deep inside him. Suddenly she forgot that she was a prisoner. She was no longer afraid of the man before her. Her heart was aching to fill the gap that had opened up between them. His broken heart pulled her towards him, and there was no time to think, there was no time to hesitate. His whole body went stiff as she leaned in, leaned in and kissed him.

♠♥♣

A/N: Bet you didn't see that coming! Or did you? Let me know! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate it.


	6. What A Kiss Can Do

A/N: Ok, let's see if this works, shall we? I've been having lots of problems with this chapter, it seems to keep disappearing when people try to read it so I have deleted it and reposted it to see if that solves the problem! I did intend to post Chapter 7 today but I think I might leave it a little while and see if this works first.

♠♥♣

Chapter Six: What A Kiss Can Do

The sky exploded with thunder. Everyone else dived for cover as the rain came down in a sudden solid sheet but Jack simply looked up and let the deluge wash over him. The thunder could deafen him, the rain could drown him, the lightening could strike him and still he would stand right in the eye of the storm because what was a tempest when your heart was already failing? The wind was shrieking overhead, tearing at everything in its path. Jack wanted to scream along with it.

"Jack!" Will, his arm held up to shield himself from the worst of the driving rain. "Jack, come on! The storm's getting worse." But Jack remained where he was, wondering whether Will had any idea what was going on inside him. Did anyone?

"Jack, please," pleaded Will, "This won't help anyone." Jack had a pistol pointed at Will so fast the boy could do naught but blink.

"Jack?" Will sounded worried. Jack stared at the gun in his hand. What the hell was he doing? He span round, and shot at the darkness. Will came up behind him and put an arm around his shoulder. Suddenly unable to walk unaided, Jack allowed himself to be steered out of the rain.

"Come on, Jack," said Will, "We'll wait together."

♠♥♣

_"Davy?"_ His name trembled with the shock of betrayal. _"How could you?"_

The kiss was broken almost instantly as Davy pushed Sylvia backwards fiercely. He felt like he was on fire, connections seared inside his brain. What the hell had she just done! The same thought was evidently going through her head. She had gone very pale, her dark eyes suddenly wide. She looked like she was about to be sick. One hand travelled up to her lips, trembling fingers asking the question. Why? Why? _Why? _Davy could not bear to look at her. She wasn't the one he wanted. She wasn't the one he needed. He disappeared from the room, unable to stand another second in her presence. The door slammed deafeningly behind him. He would kill her for this. He would kill her.

♠♥♣

She could taste salt. Davy Jones tasted of tears. When he had vanished, Sylvia's body had begun to shut down. First her legs had given way, then her arms had gone numb, then her head had felt so heavy she'd had to lie down and now she felt like she was melting into the floor. She felt every roll of every wave and began to wish she was under the water instead of on top of it. If she was to drown right now, would it feel worse than this? Why had she kissed him? She could not pretend that it had been because she wanted to pay Jack's debt, she could not even pretend that she had lost her mind for an instant because she could remember everything with painful clarity. His music, his playing, it had got inside her. The melody had spoken to her, whispered things in her ear that she had never known before and underneath it all had been the throbbing of a crippled, broken heart. A shadow of the past, an echo of the future. She had kissed another man. She had kissed a monster. And the worst part, the very worst part, was the terrifying thought that somehow Jack had seen her do it, that somehow Jack already knew.

♠♥♣

Davy could hear her voice, clearer than it was in even his most vivid dreams, whispering the words that made him smile all those years ago and made him cry now. Tears. That wench, Sylvia, had made him cry with a single kiss. He had cut his heart out to stop this pain and now she was here bringing it all back to him. If he got rid of her now he would stop hurting, but if he got rid of her now the voice would disappear and he might never hear her again. He had felt her so powerfully when Sylvia had touched him, almost like she was inside Sylvia trying to get through. Could he stand the pain of being close to her for one night? As his murderous rage began to wash away the storm churning the sea began to ease, the clouds thinning out to reveal one or two stars.

♠♥♣

Bootstrap was afraid to even breathe. The Captain had come storming out of his cabin so fast that he'd had no time to escape and now he was trapped. He knew if he moved he would be seen, and he also knew that if the Captain ever found out that one of his crew had seen him crying he would see fit to redefine the word 'suffering'. Finally, the Captain moved off, back towards the cabin, and, scared as he was, Bootstrap could not help risking everything by leaning out to watch. How could innocent little Sylvia hold enough power to reduce Davy Jones, Lord of the Ocean, to tears? He muttered a prayer for her as he hurried away from the scene. For the rest of the night he would toss and turn, plagued by the screams of a woman he had not tried to save.

♠♥♣

Sylvia was so resigned to the fact Davy Jones was going to tear her apart that when he reappeared, quite calmly, she was almost more frightened than she had been when she was waiting for him. He did not approach the organ this time, instead he stood by the door watching her as if seeing her for the first time but Sylvia did not analyse his look carefully, she had too many worries of her own.

"If you're going to…" she began but Jones cut her off.

"I want ye t' do somethin' fer me," he said. Sylvia's blood ran cold. This was it. She wanted to say something but the best she could manage was a nod. Jones was limping slowly towards her, and as he got closer Sylvia saw that his eyes were full of a sadness so intense she had to look away. This was a dying man, a dying man who would not let himself die.

Jones came to a stop. He towered above her as she sat on the floor. He did not want her, he wanted a woman who was out of reach, but here she was, a real woman, a woman who could see and be seen, touch and be touched, love and be loved. One night. Just one night.

♠♥♣

Will had never known a night to drag like this one. Even the night Laura had been born had not as tense as this. If only Jack would say something, if only something other than anguish would shine in his dark eyes. Will looked over at Gibbs, who was clutching his empty flask of rum so hard it was a wonder it had not buckled. Both of them had agreed to stay with Jack whether Jack wanted company or not. Frankly both of them were afraid of what would happen if they left their friend alone again. Not for the first time, Will wished Elizabeth was with them. She was good at talking to people. She would have known what to say to Jack, and Jack would have listened to her. But Elizabeth was an ocean away with no idea what was happening. Was she worried about him or was she still too furious? Her last words rang inside Will's head, chilling his heart. He should not have come, but he had, and he knew that if he could go back he would go again. There were some things a man had to do, or were there? Should anyone leave their family to go to the aid of a friend? Would Jack have left Sylvia to help Elizabeth? No, thought Will, he would have brought Sylvia with him. At least in the morning, when it finally came around, Sylvia would be back for better or worse and Will could head back to Port Royal. He would apologise for a thousand years if that's what it took but he would get Elizabeth to forgive him. It hurt too much to think of her angry and alone.

Gibbs yawned, his eyes drooping. Will was feeling heavy with tiredness too. Jack, however, did not look like he was about to sleep anytime soon despite the fact a couple of hours sleep would in all likelihood do him the power of good. Will thought he would suggest it, on the off chance, but Jack ignored him, preferring instead to score lines on the wall with his knife. Better the wall than his arm. Gibbs' was leaning against the wall in the corner now, eyes closed, unable to stay awake a moment longer. Will stifled a yawn of his own. Only a couple of hours to go…

♠♥♣

The sky was beginning to lighten as was the burden weighing down Bootstrap's heart. The night was almost over, with the morning came an end to Sylvia's ordeal. She would be free to return to Jack, free to pass his message on to the son he would never get to see. For the first time in a very long time, Bootstrap felt like smiling. The feeling did not last long.

"I do believe yer in my way." The Captain had appeared out of nowhere right in front of him, and he did not look in high spirits.

"Sorry, Cap'n." He moved out of the way hastily but the Captain did not move past. Bootstrap began to rapidly retrace his footsteps in his mind, had he done something wrong? Had he forgotten to do something? His mind turned to stone. Had he been seen?

"Yer lookin' a mite jumpy, Mr Turner," said the Captain suspiciously, "Is there something' ye wish t' tell me?" It was a direct order, not a question. The Captain allowed no secrets on his ship, and he permitted no lies.

"No, sir," said Bootstrap. He forced himself to keep breathing normally as the Captain's ice cold stare bored into him, looking for any excuse to tear him down. After almost a full minute of this, with Bootstrap about ready to crack, the Captain spoke.

"Prepare the longboat."

"Right away, Cap'n."

Bootstrap thought he knew what he was to prepare the longboat for. The morning was upon them now, and that meant there was one too many onboard. The Dutchman would not wait for the Pearl, Sylvia would have to fend for herself. The ocean behind them was completely clear of vessels but Bootstrap knew the Pearl. She was the fastest ship he knew with the wind behind her, there was every chance of Sylvia being found before too long. He heard someone behind him and turned to see a ghost, Sylvia's ghost.

She seemed to be floating rather than walking, every movement slow and dreamlike. Her face, so full of healthy colour the day before, was white, her dark eyes shining too brightly. She looked at him and he saw the scars of trauma staring back at him. She tried to smile at him, but a force from within kept the smile from lighting up.

"Is it ready?" she asked in an empty whisper.

"Almost," said Bootstrap, "Would you like t' sit down while you wait?" Sylvia shook her head, her dark hair, loose and wild, shook too. Bootstrap tore his eyes away from her. What had that bastard done to her? Wasn't it enough that he played with men's souls like they were pawns on a chess board? Sylvia never had a choice, not a real choice, he had never asked her whether she valued her soul over death, he had just used it and thrown it back to her and now here she was, a shadow of her former self. Bootstrap knew he should have done more. Why was he so afraid for himself? Jones had his soul, there wasn't a lot more that could be taken from him. He should have tried to protect her, he should have fought for her. He started to find Sylvia had crept up on him.

"I'm alright," she said earnestly, "I really am." She laid her hand on his arm. "Thank you."

"I didn'…"

"Yes, you did," said Sylvia, "I wasn't alone." Bootstrap straightened up, the longboat was ready to depart with Sylvia onboard.

"I don' want t' see you back here," he said quietly, "Take the Pearl and keep sailing, don' look back." Sylvia nodded.

"I know where Will gets his goodness from."

"Oh no," said Bootstrap, "Everything good about that boy comes straight from his mother. Now go. Go."

He watched the fragile boat ride the waves until he was called away. And still there were no black sails on the horizon.

♠♥♣

Jack was beside himself, pacing the deck and swearing at anyone fool enough to get in his way. Will had tried to intervene but Gibbs had pulled him back.

"Ye'll not get through t' him, lad," he'd said wisely, "Best let him alone." It was hard though, to watch his friend hurting so badly.

"I thought you said Jones was a man of his word," said Will, feeling very on edge himself. The sun was high now, it could barely be called morning any more, and there was still absolutely no sign of the Flying Dutchman or its Captain.

"Oh, he is," said Gibbs, "Only sometimes 'is word differs from tha' of a decent pirate."

"Meaning?"

"Meanin' the agreement was fer one night but there were no specific agreements made as t' Sylvia's release."

"Oh." Will was reminded of another time when another Captain had kept to his word in a way that did not suit him at all. _It was you who failed to specify when or where_. Things had worked out alright in that situation…after a fashion.

"I wouldn' worry, lad," said Gibbs with false enthusiasm, "Likely as not, everythin'll work out jus' fine." Just as Will was wondering whether he should confiscate the last of Gibbs' rum for the man's own good, a cry went up. A boat had been spotted in the water ahead.

♠♥♣

It was Sylvia, he could see her, so why did he still feel so cold? Jack lowered his spyglass. Will and Gibbs were taking control, ordering the crew into position. No one noticed as he slipped away.

♠♥♣

Sylvia held up a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. There was no mistaking those black sails, the Black Pearl was sailing to her rescue. She expected to feel a rush of relief but nothing came, she closed her eyes and tried to block out everything that had happened in the last few hours but it was like trying to hold back the tide. She would just have to hope that Jack would understand. As the Pearl got closer, Sylvia scanned the figures onboard looking for him but she couldn't see him. Closer still, and Sylvia was forced to concentrate on those closest to her.

"Will?" Will Turner was holding out one hand to grab the longboat as it was swept past. Only when he was sure the boat was safely secured did he speak.

"Very happy to see you, Sylvia. Let me help you." He held out a hand to her and she took it, grateful to feel his smooth, warm skin in her own. The feel of the Pearl was similarly welcome. She felt like she had been gone a year, not a night, and now she was home. When she looked around she saw that every member of the crew was staring at her. Under their unbridled gaze her eyes filled with tears. Will put his arm around her shoulder.

"Come on," he said leading her forwards through the assembled crowd. They weren't out of earshot when Gibbs started yelling at them, his cussing made both Sylvia and Will wince.

"Sorry you had to hear that," said Will chivalrously.

"I'm used to it," said Sylvia quietly, "Will, what are you doing here? Is Elizabeth here too?" She did not miss the look that crossed Will's face at the mention of his wife.

"I came to help get you back," he said. Sylvia would usually have stopped to read into this blunt statement but she was already distracted by the nothing in front of her. Will seemed to notice.

"Are you alright, Sylvia? Are you…hurt?" She ignored him.

"Will," she whispered, "Where's Jack?"

♠♥♣

The soft knock on the door was entirely expected. He could not bring himself to answer, there was no need anyway, Sylvia entered unprompted. She looked terrible. Four days ago she had been smiling in this very room, the face that was before him now did not look like it would ever smile again.

"Jack?" Her voice trembled. Surely she was not afraid of him. She took a tentative step towards him and Jack thought his heart would tear in two to see his beautiful, wilful Sylvia so reduced. He had promised her he would keep her safe. His promise lay shattered at her feet.

"Jack, I'm ok." A lie. Anyone could see that. "Jack, please talk to me." Her lip was quivering, she bit down hard on it in an effort to remain in control. Jack tried to think of something to say but nothing seemed to fit. What do you say to the woman you love after she has spent the night with a monster? How do you begin to tell her how sorry you are that you didn't die rather than let that happen? Jack knew he was not a noble man, his honour was about as twisted as it was possible to get but there were some things you just did not do. Clearly, Davy Jones had no such honour code.

"Please, Jack…" He wanted to cross the room and hold her, kiss her until she forgot there had ever been a second without him, but he knew he could never make her forget. His betrayal would be burnt into her heart as permanently as the P on his arm.

"You should have let me go," he said. The first tear rolled down Sylvia's face.

"How could I have let you go?" she half sobbed, "I love you, Jack." She swallowed and her voice began to rise. "I wanted to save you, Jack, and I did. Can't you forgive me for that?"

"I let you go," said Jack blankly.

"Yes, and I forgive you for that. It was the only way, Jack."

"No." He refused to believe that. Darker feelings were coming to the surface in his desperation to find a way to ease his own guilt. Words he knew he should never say began to spill from his lips, the kind of words that wound. "Ye'd been there fer three days, Sylvia. You expect me t' believe…" Sylvia gasped.

"You think I wanted to stay there an extra day! Do you honestly think that, Jack?" He looked away. How was he supposed to know what to think? Nothing had prepared him for this.

"He did this on purpose, Jack," Sylvia cried, "Can't you see that? He wanted to break your heart, he wanted to break mine. He wanted to see us bleed because this is how he feels, this is how he feels every minute of every day."

"So I'm supposed t' feel sorry fer the man now?" asked Jack furiously.

"That's not what I said." Sylvia seemed to realise her mistake.

"Did he make yer feel sorry fer him?" Jack's eyes were sharp as knives now, cutting away the lies Sylvia was feeding him. "Nothin' more romantic than a tragic love story, isn' tha' what you said?"

"Jack, I did this for you…"

"Well, thank you very much," snapped Jack harshly, "Perhaps ye'll be kind enough to explain how I look at you now without seeing him." His heart was constricting too tightly to let him continue without a pause. "I'd rather have died, Sylvia. I'd rather have died for you." He pushed past her, as she dissolved into silent tears. He was out of the door before his own started to fall.

♠♥♣

A/N: Hopefully the problems I've been having will be over now and I'll be able to post Chapter 7 sometime in the next few days!


	7. Behind Closed Eyes

A/N: There was the most dazzling lightening storm last night, I've never seen so much lightening in such a short space of time, so if a storm of similar proportions should make it into a later chapter you'll know why ;-).

♠♥♣

Chapter Seven: Behind Closed Eyes

Elizabeth stood facing the window. She seemed to be spending her whole life searching for black sails. Well, enough was enough. She would not have her life dictated to her by anyone. She turned and faced her father who had entered the room several minutes before. He could tell her mind was made up, but that did not mean he wasn't going to try stopping her.

"Elizabeth, think about what you're…"

"Don't you think I have already thought about it?" Elizabeth said forcefully, "I warned him, I gave him every chance."

"But Elizabeth, he's your husband…" said Governor Swann desperately.

"Yes," said Elizabeth smartly, "And he should have known what would happen if he walked out the door."

"Think of the talk." Elizabeth shot a withering look in her father's direction which stopped that line of persuasion before it got a hold. "He'll want to find you, Elizabeth. What will I tell him?"

"You will tell him I have no desire to see him." Elizabeth was glad that she had practised this line with her father first, she would never crumble in front of him but saying that she did not want Will to find her in front of a stranger would be the ultimate test.

"I know you're lying to me," said her father quietly, "You love him." Elizabeth rounded on him, furious.

"What does that matter? He told me he loved me, and the next thing I know he's left the children without a father. What good is love if it disappears whenever it feels like it? I am not going to wait for him to return to me. That is not the way I love."

"But, Elizabeth, what about the children, are you sure…?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth before her father could finish, "I'm sure."

♠♥♣

Will knocked gently on the cabin door. It was ajar and inside he could hear Sylvia crying softly. She sniffed and called out, her voice high. As he entered she desperately tried to tidy herself up but when she saw he was not Jack, her hands fell listlessly back down to her sides.

"Will," she said getting up, "I'm sorry…"

"Please don't get up," said Will. Sylvia let herself fall back down gently and he joined her, his legs crossing on the floor. As haunted and stricken as she had looked when climbing aboard the Pearl, she looked worse now, her face streaked with tears. She wiped another couple away roughly.

"I know what you've come here to say," she said, her voice occasionally punctuated by little post-crying hiccups, "You're going to tell me Jack isn't angry, that he just needs time. That is what you were going to say, isn't it?" Will nodded. A variation of it anyway. Sylvia smiled a watery smile and closed her eyes.

"He never touched me," she said almost to herself, her voice disturbingly distant, "He never even touched me."

"Sylvia?" Will felt she was slipping away from him. "Who never touched you?" Sylvia, eyes still closed, laughed very quietly.

"He didn't need to touch me, he knew Jack would never believe me." She was swaying slightly, the angle of her body veering dangerously close to falling. Will moved so that he could hold her.

"I think you need some sleep," he said helping her to her feet. She went limp in his hands, she had no resistance left. Will knew he should help her undress, as she was clearly not in a fit state to be doing so herself, but he could not bring himself to force upon her another man's touch, so he lay her down in bed fully clothed. She looked so miserable lying there that he knew he could not leave her. He slipped his hand over hers and held it until he was sure that she had fallen asleep. Silently, he crept out of the cabin hoping that no one would disturb her. Now to find Jack and get him to do the same thing.

♠♥♣

Marty whistled to himself as he strode the length of the deck. His mood had rocketed up as soon as Sylvia had stepped on board. He had only caught a brief glimpse of her as Will helped her onboard but she seemed ok. So everything was back to normal. The Captain would soon give them orders, and they would be back on track, ready to tackle the next challenge. '_Yes_,' thought Marty as he took a hearty breath of the delicious fresh air, '_It's a pirate's life for me_.' He continued to whistle and walk, unable to see a cloud on the horizon. It was only when he came across Jack's tri-corner hat that his whistling stopped. It was lying upside down as if hastily discarded, and that was most unlike the Captain. Marty scooped it up and brushed it off, before looking around for its owner. It did not take long to find him.

Jack was leaning over the side of the ship which prompted Marty to hurry over. As Jack did not look round, Marty assumed he had not been heard so he tugged twice on the sleeve of his Captain's shirt causing the man to look down. His face was a peculiar shade of pale green, giving his kohl rimmed eyes an almost dazzling effect.

"Captain, do you want me t' get someone?" Marty asked at a loss to think of what else he could do. Jack shook his head and turned back so that he was facing the water.

"Was it somethin' you ate?" Marty asked running through the ship's inventory in his head with a mind to throw the contaminated food overboard as soon as it was identified. Jack shook his head again, apparently unwilling to open his mouth to speak. Marty frowned. It certainly could not be sea sickness, though most sailors, honest and pirate alike, suffered on occasion in bad weather, Marty had never known the Captain to be anything less than at home on the ocean wave, and on a day like this with the sea as flat calm as it was, there was no reason for any illness to occur in even the most delicate of crewmen. That only left some kind of unrelated illness, which was certainly a worry.

"I'll get Gibbs," said Marty, despite Jack's earlier reluctance to have help he felt sure that getting someone was the right thing to do. Before Jack could protest, he was off as fast as his legs could carry him. He did not get far before running into Will.

"Marty, have you seen Jack?" the young man asked him, his expression anxious.

"Yes," said Marty a little breathlessly, running had never been his favourite activity. He pointed in the direction he had just come. "He's been taken ill, I was on my way to get Gibbs."

"No need for Gibbs," said Will already moving past him, "I'll take care of him." With nothing to do, Marty set off towards the helm to see who was on duty. The news that the Captain was ill would soon travel, there were no secrets onboard a ship.

♠♥♣

"Was it something you ate?" Will asked. Jack rolled his eyes. Was every member of his crew going to ask him that!

"No," he said with difficulty, "I believe it's somethin' I did." Will's face clouded over as it always did when he did not understand something but Jack could not have explained even if he had wanted to for at that moment another wave of nausea swept over him and he was retching again, his stomach long empty of content. Will, rather annoyingly, stayed by his side long after it was all over. Jack would rather he had made himself scarce but Will had an uncanny knack for doing exactly what Jack would rather he did not do. They would have to address that little habit some day, but today he did not have the energy to do anything more but sink down onto the deck. Will, predictably, sat down beside him. It was only then that Jack wondered whether the man's motivation for sticking so close was not the charitable one he had assumed.

"Is there somethin' I can do you for, William?" he asked faintly, wishing the deck would stop rolling, at times like this there was something to be said for a stretch of dry land.

"It can wait until you're feeling better," said Will infuriatingly.

"Out with it," said Jack who was finding talking easier, at least it was a welcome distraction. Will cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I wanted to know when you'll be issuing the order to return to Port Royal, only Elizabeth's waiting and…"

"How do you know?"

"What do you mean?" Jack shifted positions, then regretted it when his stomach churned horribly.

"How do you know Elizabeth's waitin' fer ye? You did walk out on her."

"I didn't…" Will trailed off. "She'll be waiting for me, Jack. I know Elizabeth, and she knows I would never leave her longer than I had to."

"Ah, so you had t' leave?"

"Jack, you were the one who asked me to!" More churning, this time a different sort.

"And look how well it turned out fer the both of us," said Jack as he got unsteadily to his feet, "I'll set yer mind at ease now, lad. There won't be a next time."

♠♥♣

Sylvia dreamt she was drowning, the dark water pulling her under, her dress weighing her down. She struggled, arms flailing, but down and down she went, darkness, nothing but darkness. She woke, gasping, her lungs telling her that she had been holding her breath. Without waiting to catch it again, she began to rip at her dress. The material was strong but madness gave her muscle she did not usually possess and at last it began to tear, strips of it coming away in her hands. She tore and ripped until she was standing in her underclothes, the remains of her one dress in tatters around her.

"I will never wear a dress again," she swore out loud, "Never!" She gathered the material up in her arms and flung the cabin door open with every intention of flinging the ruined dress into the sea but she had not bargained on someone standing in the doorway.

"Jack?" He did not look at all well and her rage was lost to his pitiful appearance. His eyes travelled the length of her skimpily dressed body and landed at the torn dress she had dropped upon seeing him.

"I shouldn't 'ave made you wear the dress."

"Oh Jack…" Sylvia flung her arms around his neck and moved in to kiss him. Their lips met fiercely, a far cry from the gentle kisses they had been sharing a few long days ago. It was Jack who pulled away first, his hand on the side of her face as he stared hard into it.

"Are you…ok?" he asked with difficulty. Sylvia nodded. She felt weak from relief and was glad that Jack had one arm around her.

"Ye don' have t' lie to me," he said.

"I'm not lying," Sylvia said intently, "I promise. I promise, Jack." Jack kissed her again leaving her breathless. She closed her eyes, losing herself to the moment when suddenly her body went stiff as she tasted something that was not Jack, she tasted tears. The next thing she knew Jack had released her as if she had burnt him. They stared at each other like two strangers and then Sylvia saw them, the almost invisible tracks of two tears down Jack's face. She could have laughed, but Jack was looking more hurt than she had ever seen him, laughter, she felt, would not have helped.

"You're crying." Jack wiped the accidental tears away angrily.

"Yer not," he pointed out hurtfully.

"I shed my tears before you came in, I'm surprised the Pearl did not sink for the weight of them." Jack sank heavily onto the bed, his shoulders weighed down by an invisible pressure. Sylvia joined him, slipped her fingers through his and squeezed his hand just like she always did.

"You didn't take me being married this hard," she reminded him gently hoping to jog him back to normality. Her Jack smiled and laughed and kissed her like she was all he wanted in the world. Her Jack did not cry.

"Ye weren't married to a monster."

"The man kidnapped, shot and planned to rape me, I think that qualifies him as a monster."

"Ok," Jack relented with a sigh, "It's jus' different…"

"I know," Sylvia whispered, "You will forgive me, won't you?" The silence was deafening.

♠♥♣

She was asleep by his side, her body curled up against his, one hand clamped tightly around a handful of his shirt. She was not relaxed, she was not calm. Normally invisible lines were deep on her forehead, scored there by him or Jones…how would he ever know? The tears she had shed, were they caused by the Captain of the Pearl or the Captain of the Dutchman? He wanted to know exactly what had happened, down to the very last detail but he could not bring himself to ask. He did not want to hear Sylvia describe it, but far worse was the possibility that she would not tell him anything, that she wanted to keep the whole night a secret, locked up in her heart forever. Was she reliving it now? Whoever knows what goes on behind closed eyes? His pounding head was telling him that he had to sleep too but every time he tried the darkness was illuminated by shadowy projections of the things he did not know. Even when he managed to banish these demons, he was plagued by the thought that somewhere out across the ocean someone else was thinking of the woman beside him, remembering things only they knew about, and the thought was enough to make him want to shoot at something, preferably something slimy, with tentacles and a smug Scottish accent…not so smug with a bullet in the brain. Finally finding something sweet to dream about, Jack drifted off to sleep just as Sylvia's eyelids flickered and she woke beside him.

♠♥♣

Glad to see Jack asleep, Sylvia was loathe to risk disturbing him. Her own sleep had been troubled by words she would never forget. She had wanted to tell Jack everything, put his and her own mind at ease, but she could no longer see that happening. Telling everything would mean reliving it all, every second, every moment, and she could not do that if at the end Jack believed she was lying to protect him from the truth. If he would not believe her then she would keep it locked up inside, keeping the key on her…just like Davy Jones. _Oh Davy, I wish you hadn't told me…_

♠♥♣

The crew of the Flying Dutchman were silent as ghosts. Three of them had been punished in the same of a few short hours for crimes none but the Captain would ever have highlighted. One punishment was usually a source of jubilance for everyone else, a celebration that it was someone else feeling the bite and sting of the Captain's wrath, and when you've got nothing else you begin to enjoy seeing the blood run from another's body no matter how you felt about it when you were a free man. But the Captain's unprecedented bad mood was not enjoyed by anybody. On another ship there might have been whispered discussions in the shadows, speculations and guesses, but not on the Dutchman. All was silent, all was still, everyone ready to leap to attention should an order be so much as breathed in their direction.

Bootstrap, for once not once of the victims of the Captain's wrath, was sitting below decks, his turn on duty over for a few hours. In truth, he preferred to be working, there was nothing to do with free time except to think about all the things he wished he could change, and all the regrets of his past. He thought of his son most of all. His biggest regret, but far from his only one. William, dear little William. He could not even work out how old he would be now. He should have asked Sylvia, he cursed himself for not asking questions…what did he look like? What was his wife like? How old were his two children? Was he happy? Was he safe? No, it was better this way. He had not been around to know his son when he was a boy, he had no right to know him now he was a man. It was right he only knew an outline, just enough to let him know that he had one less thing to feel guilty about. William had grown into a fine man, Sylvia had said so. If Mrs Elizabeth Turner was half of Sylvia then she too would be a truly fine lady. He would cherish the little he knew of his son for as long as he remembered it, and the burden of his servitude would be that little bit lighter for however long that may last. He was a cursed man but for a couple of minutes, in silent contemplation, he was almost a happy one.

In his cabin, the Captain was most certainly not happy. The sight of blood had not slaked his own suffering in the way it usually did, which only served to make him demand more. It was true, the pain of the night's events was fading, but not quickly enough. A lifetime's regret took a long time to fade, a hundred years of love took even longer. There was only one thing that would distract him completely. The mere thought of it was enough to flood his senses. Deep in the dark heart of the ocean she lay sleeping, waiting for his call. He would raise her, and he would watch as she satisfied a hunger no mere mortal could hope to comprehend. _She_ would make him forget.

♠♥♣

A flock of birds flew overhead, calling loudly to each other as they searched below for fish. Will listened to them, wishing he could fly with them. With every passing minute his desire to return to Port Royal grew stronger and stronger. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He needed to get home. Had Jack given the crew their heading? Were they even going in the right direction? Such thoughts had Will tossing and turning, rest impossible to achieve. Once he thought he heard his son's voice calling out to him, pleading with him to return.

"I'm coming, Tom," he whispered to the ceiling above him, "I'm coming, wait for me."

♠♥♣

Elizabeth stood in the doorway of her son's bedroom, watching him sleep. He had plagued her with questions about his father all through the day, getting his little sister worked up in the process until all three of them were crying.

"Your father's gone away," Elizabeth had told him, "We're going away too, for a little while."

"But why?" Tom has asked, distraught, "Why can't father come with us? Where has he gone? Is he with Uncle Jack? Have they gone on an adventure?"

"No," said Elizabeth wishing to squash any romantic notions the boy had but knowing deep down it was already too late, "We're going to be the ones on the adventure. It'll be exciting, my dear, just you wait." But Tom had not been convinced, perhaps because his mother's eyes had been so sad when her mouth was smiling. He had always been an astute little lad, so hard to fool, except when it came to Jack and his stories. The boy believed everything that came out of Jack's mouth. Elizabeth was beginning to realise that Will did too. Just like his son, Will wanted to live the adventures not just hear about them. He craved the spray of the sea on his face, the rush of drawing alongside an enemy ship, the thrill of holding a sword. These were the games boys played while they pretended to be men. It was alright for Jack, his responsibilities could be counted on the fingers of one hand, but Will was a father, he had a family to provide for. _Try explaining that to your son_, Elizabeth thought bitterly. _Try explaining that to your heart_. It was almost time. _No tears, Elizabeth, you've got to be strong for the children. _

♠♥♣

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. In case you hadn't already guessed Elizabeth, Will, Laura and Tom have much bigger parts to play in this story than they did in 'The Bird Cage'. I still don't have a clear idea of how long this fic is going to be but as soon as I know I'll let you know. Also, I'll be going back to uni in a few weeks so update speed will no doubt suffer as a result, just thought I'd give you some advance warning! Anyway, thank you very much for your comments on Chapter 6, I look forward to hearing what you think of this chapter...


	8. Discovery

A/N: The lines are working again! I don't know why but that discovery made me perculiarly happy, yep, I'm a weirdo. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Eight: Discovery

"You're up early."

Will looked round to see Sylvia, dressed in her customary trousers, shirt and boots. He wished the person inside the clothes looked the same, but that would take longer than one restless night to accomplish.

"Couldn't sleep," said Will. The dreams of his family still clung to him. He shivered in the cool morning air. Little did he know that in a few minutes time, he would have something else to think about. Sylvia came to stand next to him, their elbows almost touching.

"I need to talk to you," she said. Will immediately felt a thrill of fear. He was sure she wanted to talk about her ordeal and, though he would listen to whatever she wanted to tell him, he did not want to hear it but he had no time to put up any shields as Sylvia went straight on to deliver blow number two.

"I have a message…from your father." He knew he had misheard her.

"My father?"

"Yes, Will." Will ran his hand through his hair, wondering how to deal with this new twist. Surely Sylvia had been told of his father's fate.

"My father's dead," he said, feeling the usual numbing of his heart as he spoke the words. He barely remembered his father, and the details he had uncovered over the last few years from Jack and Barbossa's crew had changed even those hazy memories beyond recognition. His father was not the brave, honest merchant sailor he had been brought up to believe. His father had been a pirate, a friend of Jack's, a victim of Barbossa's. His death had led to this moment, forcing Will to become a pirate himself, at least temporarily. Sylvia's long pause lulled Will into thinking she had realised she must have been dreaming, but that was not the case.

"I know this is going to be hard," she said carefully, "But please listen to me, I promised I deliver his message and I don't break my promises."

"Ok," said Will reluctantly. He would listen and then he would walk away, words were just words, they weren't necessarily the truth. Sylvia had been through a lot, she was bound to be confusing things, or seeing things too vividly and believing them real…anything to avoid her truth. Sylvia took a moment to arrange her thoughts.

"Your father was a cursed man when Barbossa sent him down to the bottom of the ocean. He could not die, and he could not escape. There was no way out, until Davy Jones offered him a deal. He took it. One hundred years onboard the Dutchman for the chance to die. He's there now, Will. I met him, I spoke to him, I told him of you. He wanted you to know that he's grateful to have received word of you, and that you're often in his thoughts. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, Will."

"My father? My father is on the Flying Dutchman?" It couldn't be true. Bootstrap Bill was dead. Will had carried his father's death in his heart for so long, he _had_ to be dead. But Sylvia was nodding, knocking down another pillar of certainty.

"How…how did you…?" He did not know what he wanted to say. This was all too much. His father, a prisoner of Davy Jones, a prisoner of his own choosing…how could he say he was sorry?

"I had to tell you, Will. He wanted you to know. He's proud of you, proud of the man you've become." Will felt something in him spark.

"What right has he to be proud? He was never there for me!" Unperturbed by his raised voice, Sylvia answered quite calmly.

"I think he's proud for that very reason," she said, "He was afraid you would follow in his footsteps, make the same mistakes."

"I would never sell my soul."

"Try not to judge your father too harshly, he…" But Will had heard enough. He almost ran from Sylvia, desperate not to add to the mass of information already swirling inside his head. His father was supposed to be dead. He wished he was.

♠♥♣

Gibbs was pleased to see Jack's face had regained some of its colour. There was still no smile on his lips, but one step at a time suited Gibbs just fine.

"Do we have a headin', Captain?"

"Aye, Port Royal, William's got an appointment with the missus…wouldn't want him to miss it."

"Aye, sir, and where to after dropping Will off, only the rum's runnin' a little short an'…" There it was, a quick smile.

"Alright," Jack grumbled unconvincingly, "We'll stop off at Tortuga."

♠♥♣

Sylvia could see the crew had been given orders. She approached Cotton who was tying knots in a long piece of rope for a purpose she could not fathom. She had always got on rather well with Cotton who was mostly ignored by the others due to the unfortunate fact he could not speak. Despite not having a tongue, Cotton was very good at communicating when he chose to with or without his trusty parrot.

"Hello Cotton." Cotton, always surprised to be addressed, blinked up at her, then grinned. He touched his head with two fingers in a polite greeting. Sylvia repeated the gesture back at him, with a smile of her own. The mute pirate dusted off the ground next to him and patted it, indicating that Sylvia should sit down beside him. She did so, folding her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. She watched his worn hands deftly manoeuvring the rope.

"Do you know where we are headed, Cotton?" His hands stopped their work, and he laid the rope down on the deck in front of him for he would need to use his hands to talk. He took hold of Sylvia's hand and began to spell out the Black Pearl's destination on her palm. P. O. R. T. R. O. Y. A. L.

"Port Royal," said Sylvia happily, "Are we really going there?" Cotton nodded once then shook his head, a somewhat confusing message.

"We are going to Port Royal," Sylvia said, "But we are not staying there." Cotton nodded, grinning, he was always delighted whenever someone understood what he was trying to say. But Sylvia did not feel any delight. She liked Port Royal, it was true that every visit there was marred by the shadow of what might happen to them should they be caught but it was not so different anywhere else. They were pirates, and there were precious few places pirates could go without risk. The difference with Port Royal was the big house looking out across the port and the people who lived inside it. She held such happy memories of evenings spent in the company of Will and Elizabeth and their two wonderful children. Jack liked visiting too, often finding excuses to stop off there even if it was out of their way. So why were they simply passing through this time? Cotton, sensing her upset, patted her hand with his rough one.

"Thank you, Cotton," she said softly. Cotton nodded, satisfied that he had been understood once more.

♠♥♣

_Will brandished his sword, which was really a long stick he had found, and challenged the three invisible pirates that were surrounding him. He would fight to the death, ever brave in the face of adversity. They lunged at him clumsily, and he outwitted them, sending their swords out of reach. _

"_Now…walk the plank!" he ordered, holding his sword out threateningly. _

"_Will?" The sound of his mother's voice shattered the illusion and his three defeated foes vanished. "Will, where are you?" _

"_Coming, mother!" He hurtled up the path into the house, still holding his precious sword. _

"_Steady," said Sally when she saw him running full pelt towards him, "Ye'll do yerself an injury you will. Look at the state of ye!" She ruffled his hair which made him squirm. "And why did you feel the need to bring a piece of the outdoors in with you?" She moved to take the stick but Will clutched it tightly to his chest, looking up with serious brown eyes. _

"_It's my sword," he said. Sally fought the temptation to roll her eyes. _

"_Yer sword, o' course. Yer mother's been callin' herself hoarse fer ye, run along 'afore she starts t' worry." Will did as he was told. Calling greetings to other occupants of the boarding house as he passed them on the stairs. _

"_There you are," said his mother when he burst in through the half open door. Will smiled up at her expecting to receive a smile in return, but there would be no more smiles today. _

"_I got a letter, Will. It's from your father." Will's whole face lit up with delight but before he could ask what it said he took a good look at his mother's face. She had been crying. _

"_He wanted me to tell you that he loves you very much…and that he's very proud of you." She drew in a shuddering breath. "He won't be coming back, Will." _

"_But…" Will did not understand. Of course he was coming back. He always came back. _

"_He sent you this. To remember him by." And suddenly all he had of his father was a few scattered memories and a medallion on a golden chain. _

Will remembered holding the medallion in his hands and looking at it for hour upon hour trying to make sense of it all. His father…dead…gone…forever. His father's visits were rare, it was true, but he was always out there somewhere. As his mother liked to say, he was just around the corner.

"But how did he know he was going to die?" Will had asked time and time again, rubbing salt into his mother's terrible wound.

"He was ill, William," she said, the use of his full name a sure sign that he had gone too far. "He knew he was dying and he wanted to let us know so we would not wait for him…" Only Clara Turner never stopped waiting for her husband, she was still waiting as she lay, feverish and delusional, on her deathbed calling for him.

"He's coming," Will had managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, "He's coming." When she had finally slipped away, it had been some consolation that though he was alone in the world, his parents were reunited. Only now Will knew that his mother was still waiting. Damn it, this wasn't fair! He wished Sylvia had not told him because now he was torn once more. The Pearl, at his request, was sailing full speed towards Port Royal, but the closer he got to his wife and children, the further he got from his father.

♠♥♣

The wind was favourable, taking her forwards with impressive speed. That's what Jack loved about the Pearl. She was still capable of impressing him after all these years. He was at the helm, in control for a change, alone with his thoughts. Wait, maybe that wasn't such a good thing. For better or worse, Jack was not left alone for long. Two arms were suddenly wrapping themselves around his waist, and a chin resting on his shoulder. For perhaps three delicious seconds, he forgot all the thorns digging into his heart.

"Reporting for duty, Captain," Sylvia hummed in his ear.

"Distracting the Captain, ye know that's a punishable offence." It was meant as a light-hearted comment but the suggestive nature of it probed too deeply into things they had both been trying to forget. Sylvia let go of him, and Jack felt her absence more keenly than if she had walked away. A few minutes later she did just that, leaving him alone with his over-active mind.

♠♥♣

Sylvia slipped down below decks. She hated to admit this, even to herself, but she was beginning to feel like she had with Nathan. Life with her husband had always been walking on egg shells while trying not to jar a broken heart. Jack was nothing like Nathan, so this time, she reasoned, it had to be her fault. She had never found it hard to be open and honest with Jack, she had never had to force her smile in place or fight a shudder when he touched her. Now, it was like something had smashed and they were trying to get by just using the pieces. Sylvia slipped down to the cargo hold, where few people ventured. She needed to be alone for a while. She needed time to think.

The further she ventured inside the ship, the more it began to resemble the Dutchman. Dark, damp, encrusted with the detritus of marine life…yes, Davy Jones might well find himself at home down here. Sylvia found a relatively dry barrel to sit down on. The air was ripe with the salty smell of seaweed and the sweet smell of slowly rotting wood. No wonder Jack disliked going down into the belly of his ship, it was a reminder that nothing lasts forever, this smell was the smell of mortality. Sylvia did not dislike the smell, it wasn't comforting but it wasn't repulsive either. Extended time with those who had chosen to forestall death had certainly given Sylvia a new appreciation for her own transience, and a deeper, more painful understanding of what it meant to love someone. Sylvia had known Davy Jones was a cruel man, but no one had prepared her for the way his words would carve themselves into her soul. Jack had told her that Jones was wounded by love, but no one had told her his every action was controlled by it. Love was suddenly a dark, possessive, demonic thing with roots that grew without end. And it wasn't just him. Sylvia could feel it inside her too, ready to poison everything she believed love should stand for, and if it was released it would not stop with her, oh no, because, above all things, love was greedy, and its appetite was insatiable. The greater the love, the greater the destruction when the darkness got a hold. If only she could stop thinking about it and remember how things had been before, a time when love had been all that love should be. She squeezed her eyes tight shut. There was more than torment. There was more than desolation. There was more than what Jones had led her to believe. There had to be.

♠♥♣

"We've discussed this, William," said Jack shortly in no mood for further argument. Will, incensed beyond what was reasonable in Jack's opinion, clearly was not prepared to close the discussion.

"So you're just going to drop me off and sail away?"

"Tha's right."

"And you're not going to consult Sylvia about this?"

"Er…no." She wasn't the Captain.

"Jack, you're being an idiot." Jack turned so he was only holding the helm with one hand, and with the other he slapped the self-righteous look right off Will Turner's pretty boy face.

"Ye'll keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll…"

"What on earth…?" Sylvia had come upon the scene, the surprise evident in her wide eyes. Jack returned his attention to the helm, but Sylvia was not letting him get away that easily.

"Aren't you going to explain yourself?" Sylvia came up beside him, her voice quietly insistent. There had to be a good reason why he had just struck his friend, after all. Well, there was a bloody good reason. Will never knew when to quit.

"A Captain has no need to explain himself to anyone," was his clipped reply.

"Is that so? That wasn't..." A bolt of lightening travelled through Jack, electrifying every single nerve. If she mentioned that bastard's name one more time… Will, being smarter than he looked, pulled Sylvia backwards out of harm's way.

"Wasn't what?" Jack hissed.

"Wasn't always your policy," Sylvia finished faintly. The lightening disappeared so fast Jack was left reeling but the damage was already done. Sylvia pulled away from Will, and ran out of sight.

"What was that about?" Jack didn't know whether Will meant the slap or the inappropriately aggressive response to Sylvia, but he knew he could not adequately explain either one. He didn't know what was wrong with him. No, that wasn't true, he did know. He was being eaten alive.

"Can't you bloody well leave me alone?"

"If that's what you want, Jack." Jack listened to him leave, and realised it wasn't what he wanted at all.

"Gibbs? Where the hell are ye, man?"

"Right here, Captain." Gibbs came hurrying towards him.

"Take the helm," Jack instructed, "I've some business t' attend to."

He rehearsed his words over and over in his head. He was going to take Sylvia in his arms and apologise until he was blue in the face. Then he was going to sit her down and get her to tell him everything. It would hurt like hell but then it would be over. He would choose to believe her and there would be no more torturing himself with uncertainty. Sometimes the first step towards healing was to hurt yourself, Jack just wished he had remembered that sooner, he could have spared them both a great deal of stress. He turned the corner, so sure that this plan was going to work that he was actually smiling, but when he saw Sylvia enveloped in Will's arms, his chin resting on her head, her tears soaking into his shirt, the pain was so sudden and so extreme that he thought his heart had stopped completely. Sylvia pushed Will away the moment she saw him but it was too late. Both she and Will called to him but he was lost to them again, floating on the lonely sea of a broken heart.

♠♥♣

"Damn it!" Sylvia hit the wall closest to her with closed fists, striking at it with all the force she had in her. Will had never seen her in such a state, Elizabeth he could have imagined doing such a thing, but not Sylvia. She had always seemed such a calming influence on Jack, his port in a storm.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" She was almost screaming, her voice tearing away from her. A few seconds ago, Will had been holding her trying to sooth her while she sobbed and now he would rather have faced an angry tiger than touch her. She continued to curse, the language getting steadily worse and worse until Will could not help the protest it drew from him. Sylvia stared at him as if she had forgotten he was there. With a great effort, she bit back the rest of her tirade.

"Sorry," she said with a small shrug, "Pirate's tongue."

"You can say that again," said Will with a weak smile. It would be a while before he got some of her more colourful phrases out of his mind. Sylvia leaned back, her head resting against the wood she had just been assaulting.

"Is it always going to be like this?" she asked him or someone above, he could not tell. "Will he never forgive me?"

"It's only been a day," Will reminded her, a little reluctantly, he was certainly in no hurry to have her newly discovered fury directed at him. Sylvia sighed in the way people do when they know they are being unreasonable.

"I can't help it," she said apologetically, "I just…it feels like something's eating away at me. I love him so damn much…I can't lose him, Will. I just can't."

"You won't," said Will confidently. He had seen the differences in his friend since Sylvia had come into his life, and all of them had been positive. Jack Sparrow was a man complete with her by his side, and he was – had been – enjoying every minute of it. He would not let Sylvia drift out of his life, not when he had been willing to give away his soul to keep her safe. Thoughts of Jack led him onto another, related topic, one that was pressing more intently upon him with every minute that passed.

"Does Jack know about…my father?" Father. The word was foreign all of a sudden, its taste and sound so different from what Will remembered. Sylvia looked momentarily confused, as if she didn't understand him, and then her expression cleared.

"Oh…no, no, he doesn't. I thought…well, he gave me no message for Jack." Will swallowed, painfully. It was as he had suspected. Surely if Jack had been told about Bill Turner being alive he might have mentioned something along those lines to him. Of course, that meant that it was up to Will to tell him…if he wanted to. Approaching Jack was not a prospect Will was too eager on trying right now whatever the topic of conversation, but the longer he left it, the harder it was going to be.

"Do you think he'd want to know?" Will asked aloud, desperate for someone else to help him with this decision. Sylvia was rubbing her forehead with the fingertips of one hand.

"I don't know," she said distractedly, "I don't know what that man wants at the moment. Maybe you could snag his bloody compass and have a look for yourself." She made no excuses for her uncustomary tone. Will decided this would be a good time to leave her to her own thoughts, for his own safety as much as anything else. Besides, he had plenty of things he needed to think over even if his brain already felt like a wrung sponge. What he would have given to have his Elizabeth with him. He wasn't too proud to admit that she was the real thinker of the family. _If you were only here, Lizzie. _

♠♥♣

The Pearl slid into the dark waters of the sleeping Port Royal as silently as a shadow. Jack would not have normally brought her in so close but as she wasn't going to be waiting for anyone, he decided it was worth the risk. The thrill was somewhat dimmed by the fact Commodore Norrington was no longer in charge, thus eliminating the possibility of putting one over on him for old time's sake. Rumour was that the Commodore had been charged with hunting down the Pearl after letting it escape a second time, but if that were true he was doing a very poor job, Jack had seen neither hide nor hair of him for a year or more.

"Alright Will," Jack heard Gibbs say, "Figure ye've got everythin' ye need."

"Boys rowing t' shore," said Jack, "What could he possibly need?" Gibbs was not the least bit put out at Jack's hard tone, he'd put up with a lot worse in all the years they had known each other. He probably figured that this storm would blow over, just like they had always done before, but Jack felt this one settling over him for an extended stay. He looked around for Sylvia, sure that she would be around to say goodbye, but all the figures standing around on deck were male.

"Jack, I need to talk to you."

"Need is a strong word, William," said Jack stiffly, "I think ye might want t' reconsider the use of it." Will looked for a moment as if he was going to sweep Jack's recommendation aside like he usually did, and then, with a flash of something Jack could not place, the younger man turned away. No overly hearty goodbye this time. No good wishes to the wife and kids. Jack's heart gave a painful twinge as he thought of Tom and little Laura. If he could have seen them without running into Elizabeth, he would have been there like a shot, but he could not face their mother. Not when with one look at him she would be able to see that she was right. He was a coward and the price he had paid for it was heavier than he could ever have imagined.

♠♥♣

The lack of goodbye from either Sylvia or Jack stung. Though he had achieved his aim, that of saving Sylvia, there was no joy or satisfaction in his heart, nothing he could take back to Elizabeth to prove it had all been worthwhile. In truth, if he had stayed at home things would in all probability have worked out exactly the same and he would not yet know the truth about his father, which was certainly something he could have waited for. As he grasped the two oars firmly and began to propel himself away from the Pearl, Will wondered whether a single positive thing had come from his decision to leave his wife and children. The answer made his strokes harder and faster. Home was so close now. One thing was for sure, he was never disobeying his wife again.

Night smothered every shop, every house and every street. Will was grateful for the bright moon which gave him more than enough light to see by. The Pearl was disappearing, its black bulk a mere illusion on such a night. Will spared only a moment for those onboard before setting off towards his house at a brisk pace which pretty soon turned into a jog and then a full blown run. His heart was hammering the names of those that waited for him. _Elizabeth. Laura. Tom._ He felt like he had been away for four years rather than four days. _Elizabeth. Laura. Tom._ He charged up the path, a grin already splitting his face as he imagined Elizabeth's cross face melting into a relieved smile when he burst into their bedroom. He could already feel the arms of his son, and the delicate kisses of his daughter. _Elizabeth. Laura. Tom._

Unsurprisingly, the house was swathed in darkness. Will was careful to be as quiet as possible as he made his way towards the stairs. He would have achieved near silence had it not been for something very solid meeting his chins on his way to the stairs. With a thump and a curse, Will only just managed to remain on his feet. He looked down and saw that he had walked headlong into a trunk. Perplexed, Will pushed it aside, wondering why on earth there would be a trunk blocking his way to the stairs, but there would be time to wonder on such things later, there was a wife waiting. He took the stairs two at a time, his hand lightly touching the banister. The door to their bedroom was open just a fraction, as was typical. Laura was still waking up in the night and Elizabeth liked to be able to hear her before her crying rose to such a pitch that everyone in the household was disturbed. Will pushed the door open very slowly and slipped inside the room, eager to wake Elizabeth in the least intrusive way possible. He turned towards the bed, expecting to see her curled up on her side of the bed, her glorious mane of hair fanning out around her. Only the bed they shared was empty.

Will stepped forwards, touching the pristinely laid bedcovers as if doubting their existence. If Elizabeth had got up to see to one of the children, she would not have stopped to make the bed. She had not slept in this bed at all. Will felt a bite of cold remorse. Was she sleeping in another room of the house to avoid the bed they shared? Had he cut her so deeply? The desire to see her growing exponentially, Will backed out of the room. He decided to check the children's rooms, he wanted to see them too, to watch them sleeping for a moment or two. It was Tom's room he came too first, his cabin as he liked to call it after Jack had finished teaching him the name's for different parts of a ship. The door to Tom's cabin was wide open so Will did not even need to enter to see that it too was deserted. Feeling extremely uneasy, Will to Laura's room, only to find that it empty too. He could feel panic rising up inside him now. He was about to call out for Elizabeth when a figure stepped out of the shadows.

Will experienced a moment's shock but he quickly shook it off, his hand reaching for his sword which he had neglected to put down.

"There'll be no need for that, Will," said a sad, familiar voice. Governor Swann stepped forwards and by the way he was dressed Will could only assume that he had up until very recently been sleeping.

"Governor?" Propriety, even in such a strange situation, was not entirely forgotten. "What are you doing here? Where is Elizabeth?" The older man's face was heavy with regret, and he sighed once before answering.

"She's gone," he said, sending Will's heart down to his boots, "She's gone, and she's taken the children."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for the comments on the last chapter! Let me know what you think of this one... 


	9. Fighting In Tortuga

A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for the comments on the last chapter, the unpleasantness continues I'm afraid ;-). I'm pleased with the way this chapter worked out, let me know if you agree (or disagree!).

* * *

Chapter Nine: Fighting in Tortuga

There wasn't a single member of the Black Pearl's crew that wasn't grateful for the appearance of Tortuga on the horizon. The journey had been one of the most unpleasant any of them had ever endured and all of them had sailed through tempests at least once. At least once a storm was over, the sun began to shine and you could send up a prayer of thanks. The unrest between Jack and Sylvia did not seem to be drawing to any such close, and the only prayers on the lips of the crew were prayers for a night undisturbed by raised voices. Though it wasn't really the shouting that bothered any of them, the bottomless silences were worse. The Captain was unreachable and Sylvia was either crying or alone in the cargo hold. Only Gibbs seemed to be able to extract a measure of calm, his words having the effect of rousing Jack and mollifying Sylvia but it never lasted long. Tortuga would be a welcome respite for them all.

Jack and Sylvia took separate boats to shore but Gibbs saw the way they both looked over at each other whenever the other one wasn't looking. He would have rolled his eyes but he was sure Jack would have seen him and quite possibly pushed him overboard, the Captain was certainly a lot touchier these days. At first, Gibbs had believed that things would blow over but the longer the atmosphere between the two lovers continued the further a resolution seemed to get. Still, Gibbs was sure of one thing, the two of them were just as in love as they ever were and he was prepared to bet a substantial sum that if they both just listened to their hearts longer than their heads they'd be back in each other's arms faster than he could say 'where's the rum?'. Not that either of them would listen, stubborn as mules the both of them.

♠♥♣

Jack strode off in the direction of his favourite tavern, his weaving gait faster than usual. He had never left her on her own in Tortuga before and watching his retreating back stung Sylvia fiercely. Gibbs, ever watchful, was quick to join her.

"Fancy a pint or two in the Lonely Soldier?" he asked, his over-enthusiasm plastering over the obvious fact that they never went to the Lonely Soldier.

"You go ahead," said Sylvia letting the poor man off the hook, "There are a few things I need to see to." This was a lie, and a poor one at that.

"Ye really shouldn' wander about a place like this alone," said Gibbs, concerned, "Jack wouldn'…"

"If Jack was so worried about me he would have spared a glance in my direction before heading off. You don't need to worry about me, Gibbs, I'll be fine." She moved past him, leaving the man standing looking stricken by much desired rum and his self- appointed obligation to keep her safe. Apparently, the first compulsion won out, and Sylvia had to admit that stung too.

♠♥♣

Gibbs watched Sylvia go. He was so used to seeing her that he had clean forgotten how vulnerable she really was. She might have been living a pirate's life but she wasn't a pirate herself…not yet anyway. What was Jack playing at letting her out of his sight? Tortuga's bark was worse than its bite, true enough, but there was always a risk and Gibbs, for one, would rather not take it as far as Sylvia was concerned. There was one patron in the Faithful Bride that needed a good talking to, and Gibbs was determined to do it now before too much alcohol diluted the effects.

There was already one fight going on in the corner, a reasonably tired affair so Gibbs guessed it had been going on sometime. He pushed his way through men and women alike, keeping his eyes peeled for a glimpse of red bandana. In the end, it was something red that caught his attention, a shock of bright red hair. He recognised the particular coiffure as belonging to resident lady of pleasure, Scarlett. She had her back to him, if she had not been seated on a man's lap Gibbs would have greeted her with an affectionate pinch on the rump, and likely as not get a good slap for his trouble. He was about to resume his search when he noticed something about the man Scarlett was currently engaging. His boots looked awfully familiar, come to think of it, his trousers did too….oh no! With an uncharacteristic roar of rage, Gibbs leapt forwards and pulled Scarlett backwards by her hair.

"Oi!" she cried out, shocked. "What the hell you playin' at!" Jack, however, simply wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and stared languidly up at his first mate. Scarlett tore from Gibbs' grasp, slapped him hard and stalked off cursing in the way only a prostitute who has lost business can. None of that diminished Gibbs' righteous anger.

"What in God's name are you playing at?" he asked, "What if Sylvia'd walked in an' seen you two at it like that?" Jack's lip curled.

"Let her see," he said, "Let her know how it feels." Gibbs didn't like the way Jack's eyes were glazed over, nor did he trust the way his body was so limp in his chair. He'd only been alone for a maximum of ten minutes, how on earth could he have gotten himself into such a state?

"What have ye done t' yerself?"

"Why don' you just bugger off?" Jack snarled. He attempted to reach for the bottle of rum next to him on the table but missed spectacularly.

"Jack?" Gibbs grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him. "Jack, look at me." But Jack's eyes were rapidly sliding out of focus, his pupils different sizes.

"Geeettoff," he slurred pushing Gibbs away, "I'm yer Captain…"

"And a damn foolish one, you are too," Gibbs said, anxiety clipping his voice. "Did ye really think all this would make ye feel better?" Suddenly Jack's dark eyes were shining with tears. He slapped Gibbs's hands away and glared up at him, a wounded and dangerous man.

"I was feelin' better until you came along so jus' bugger off and leave me alone." Gibbs knew he was lying just as Jack knew his first mate was not about to leave just because he was told to. As he tried to think of a way to get Jack away from the temptations and noise of the Bride, Gibbs completely forgot about Sylvia.

♠♥♣

Tortuga had a fearsome reputation but out on the streets Sylvia felt quite safe. True, she was not comfortable with the idea of entering one of the taverns alone but she did not intend to. If Jack did not want to see her, she would give him his freedom but she would not drink without him. She was wise enough to know that there are no answers at the bottom of a glass, it was a way to delay the pain, that was all. Her boots clicked on the stone. She liked the sound. It was the sound of her own freedom, the freedom Jack had given her. Their love had survived so many tests already…could it survive one more? It was a question she was afraid to answer, because if the answer was no there would be nothing left for her. Jack would still have his crew, his life, his Pearl…what would she have?

Her boots carried her away from the main heart of the town, leaving the commotion behind her she headed towards the peace and tranquillity of the surrounding streets. She knew her way around, Jack had taken her different routes every time they had stopped here, taking pleasure in showing her the secret places only he knew and delighting her with stories of previous adventures. Her boot caught on a stone which rolled forwards ahead of her. In watching its progress Sylvia noticed a bench set outside the wall of a long building, a storage yard of some sort, no doubt. The bench had one occupant already, a rather dishevelled looking drunk with a half empty bottle of rum at his feet. He looked like he was about ready to introduce the contents of his stomach to the ground before him. Sylvia made to walk on when he looked up, their eyes meeting and a flicker of recognition passing over his face.

"I don't believe it," he said in a voice much more suited to a gentleman than a vagabond despite the slight slurring, "Sylvia Spencer, isn't it?" The name still brought a shiver to her.

"Used to be, sir," she said as she scrutinised his face, "Do…do I know you?" The man looked down at himself critically.

"You'll have to excuse my attire," he said bitterly, "My fortune has changed rather dramatically since we last met." Bang, it hit her. The voice and the eyes were the same but everything else…everything else was about as different as it could get. Sylvia remembered a man who resembled the one before her sitting up in bed, bandaged after being shot but looking well. She remembered hearing from him the words she had most longed to hear. _Captain Jack Sparrow will be granted clemency for as long as he remains in Port Royal, this is by my jurisdiction and as such will not be challenged._

"Commodore Norrington?" The corner of Norrington's mouth twitched.

"Commodore," he repeated virulently, "No, just plain Norrington now. Forgive me for not standing up, not feeling up to it right at this moment." Still quite unable to believe that the wild haired, mud stained sight before her was really the same man who had been in charge of the Port Royal marines, Sylvia approached cautiously. Even from a distance she could smell the rum on him.

"What happened to you?" she asked, almost awed by his spectacular alteration. Norrington raised the bottle of rum to his lips, grimaced like he would rather not take another sip then took one anyway.

"Where to begin?" he said as he lowered the bottle, "Perhaps I should start with the part where I was charged with treason for letting a wanted pirate and his vessel escape without so much as a cursory chase. Or maybe you'd rather here about how I was sent after said vessel before I'd fully recovered from being shot. And then there's the hurricane that blew up out of nothing, sinking my ship and drowning half my crew. And after that there are the months trying to pick up the pieces and start the hunt anew only to find all trails cold and all mouths mysteriously shut. Seems no one wants to shop out Captain Jack Sparrow, especially to a man with no money or power to his name, a man who just wants to get his life back. But of course, things are still wonderfully rosy for the pirate and his woman because heaven forbid anything bad happen to that man, God wouldn't be able to sleep at night." Sylvia was glad she had chosen to remain out of reach, though with Norrington swaying where he sat she did not fancy his chances of keeping hold of her even if he did manage to catch her.

"I know it probably won't mean anything to you," she said, "But I'm sorry for all the misfortune your kindness has brought you. You're a good man, Mr Norrington, and I won't easily forget it."

"Oh good," said Norrington sarcastically, "It's all worth it now." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Sorry," he said, "That was bad form. My grievance is with Sparrow, not with any of his associates." He tried a smile which failed dismally, still Sylvia was encouraged by it and decided she had nothing to lose by taking a seat beside the poor man. The least she could do was give him a little company after all he had been through.

"So…how is Sparrow?" said Norrington endeavouring to keep some of the hatred from his voice.

"He's…" Fine? No, he wasn't fine. "He's been better." This peeked Norrington's interest at once, his curiosity unashamed.

"Don't tell me misfortune has finally caught up with him too," he said a trifle gleefully.

"You could say that," said Sylvia. Norrington must have picked up on the weight behind her words.

"Trouble between the two of you? I have to say, Miss Spencer, I simply cannot understand why a woman such as yourself…"

"Sylvia," she cut in, "Please call me Sylvia."

"If you insist," said Norrington, sounding uncomfortable with the idea. He offered her his bottle of rum which, after a moment's deliberation, she accepted. She had said she would not drink alone but she'd never said she wouldn't drink at all.

♠♥♣

How like Sparrow to have a woman who could hold her liquor. Norrington would not have described himself as impressed, but he acted like he was, pressing more drink on her, and encouraging her to get whatever was bothering her off her chest. In some ways it was too easy, despite over a year sailing with pirates Miss Sylvia Spencer was still criminally naïve. He'd even told her the reason for his spectacular fall from grace and still she talked to him as if she trusted him. She did not even notice that he had stopped drinking a long time ago and was only pretending to take regular swigs from the bottle in order to keep her drinking along with him. Did she really believe he was going to let the man who had ruined his life walk away scot free once again? He took a fake swig from the bottle in his hand to cover his sudden hateful smile. Before this night was out he was going to do what he had been dreaming about for months on end, he was going to get his hands on that miserable pirate and do the noose's job.

"I really am sorry, you know." Norrington, who had been listening so intently to his own thoughts, struggled to bring himself back to the task at hand.

"For what?" he asked.

"For everything," was Sylvia's somewhat vague reply, "If there was someway I could help…"

"Oh, believe me, you're helping just by being here." And Norrington, who was rather pleased to find he still had a sense of humour, raised the bottle to her and pretended to drink in her honour.

♠♥♣

The tavern got busier and noisier as the hours wore on, and Jack found it easy enough to slip away from Gibbs the moment his back was turned. At first he thought to seek out Scarlett but the taste she had left in his mouth still hadn't faded from the first time, and he knew that no matter how long he gave it he wouldn't enjoy her company any more than he enjoyed the way the floor was tilting under his feet.

"Woah." He staggered sideways, his feet conducting their business entirely separately from his brain. His stomach churned unpleasantly, forcing Jack to wait for the feeling to subside before attempting to move again. He had no specific destination in mind. Somewhere to lie down would be nice. He tripped and landed sprawled on the stone street. Not exactly what he'd had in mind. He was just spitting out a mouthful of dirt when a voice spoke behind him.

"Well, well, well…looks like even the great Captain Jack Sparrow has to hit earth sometimes." He knew that voice. He definitely knew it. He got to his feet, swaying all too dramatically in the process. The man now before him was smirking. He knew that smirk. There was something very familiar underneath the layers of grime and neglect.

"What's the matter? Don't you recognise me? Perhaps this will jog your memory." A fist flew threw the air and connected just underneath Jack's right eye. He fell backwards, sobering up fast.

"Any idea?" said the man as he approached for a second shot. Jack looked up, stunned by the seemingly unprovoked attack, but as he looked up he saw more of the man than he had before.

"Commodore?" Norrington smiled, mirthlessly, his eyes burning.

"Hello Jack."

♠♥♣

Sylvia did not remember Norrington leaving. One moment she had been talking to someone and the next she was talking to herself. Oh well, he had left his rum so it wasn't so much of a loss. There wasn't much left in the bottle now, Norrington must have been taking tiny sips, but it was enough to see her safely into a pleasant state of drunkenness. If she had been a little more sober, she might have questioned the sense in getting drunk all alone in a place like Tortuga but questioning anything was completely beyond her at this point. She giggled as a moth flew past. She didn't even think it was funny, but that just made her giggle even more. Too glad to be relieved of the burden of thinking, she never once spared a thought for where Norrington had gone, or what he might have gone to do. In all the time Jack suffered under Norrington's brutal attack, Sylvia did not think of him once.

♠♥♣

"Where be Jack? Have you seen him?" Gibbs's search for his drunken Captain was becoming increasingly frantic. Lord knows what the man would get up to if left alone too long. Gibbs could see both Scarlett and Giselle were busy servicing clients, but there were plenty more ladies of the night in a place like this. Something had caught on his trouser leg, Gibbs attempted to shake it free and heard a loud cursing. He looked down and saw Marty hopping on one foot.

"Oh, beggin' yer pardon, Marty," said Gibbs, "'Ave ye seen the Captain?"

"Aye," said Marty, "Left the Bride near half an hour since, somethin' wrong?"

"Maybe," said Gibbs and he began to push his way to the door hoping that he would reach Jack before the fool tripped into the sea and drowned himself. Behind him, Marty shrugged and rejoined a table of his crew mates who were giving a roaring rendition of their Captain's favourite sea shanty.

The cool air of the night hit Gibbs like a slap around the face, though kinder by far than Scarlett's well practised swing. He could hear the sounds of a fight somewhere near by, but in Tortuga it was generally when you couldn't hear a fight that you needed to worry. He took a good look in either direction trying to gauge which way Jack would have lurched. Deciding that simply looking wasn't going to get the job done, Gibbs cupped his hands around his mouth and called out Jack's name into the night.

"Jack! Jack, where the bleedin' hell are ye!" The sound of fighting faltered. Gibbs whirled round, drawing his pistol out as he did so.

"Jack?" Holding out his pistol before him, he stepped into the shadows. Footsteps were running in the opposite direction but Gibbs did not concern himself with them, for he had just seen something to make his blood run cold. A blood soaked red bandana was lying just beyond his boot.

"Mother's love…Jack? Where are you?" He saw something move out of the corner of his eye, he pointed his pistol at it but lowered it almost immediately. Jack was on the ground, leaning against the wall, his face bruised and bloodied, the rest of him much the same state. As Gibbs sank down to his knees beside him, he could see Jack fixing him with a look that said quite plainly 'what the bloody hell took you so long!' He groaned as Gibbs tried to move him and one coherent word escaped him.

"…Sylvia…"

* * *

A/N: I'm off back to uni on Sunday so I apologise in advance for any delays there may be in chapter updates and replies to reviews. I hope you'll all bear with me. :-)


	10. Flames On The Waves

A/N: Hi! My internet is up and running in my new uni flat so here we go, chapter ten! I started lectures this week and it's going to be a heavy workload from here on in but hopefully I'll be able to keep on top of it and manage to get chapters out too!

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Chapter Ten: Flames on the Waves

Sylvia's arm still hurt from the tight grip Gibbs had used to propel her across town. As Gibbs told her what had happened, rather breathlessly owing to the speed they were travelling, she sobered up faster than she had ever done in her life. She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing until she was standing outside the room Gibbs had taken Jack to. There was blood on the door, fresh blood.

"Are you sure he wants to see me?" she asked, wrenching her eyes from the gruesome stain.

"He hasn' said anythin' but yer name," said Gibbs, "Won' even tell me who did this t' him. Yer what he wants, lass." With that assurance fresh inside her, Sylvia pushed open the door.

Jack was lying on his back, his eyes closed, skin pale beneath the purple bruises and the drying blood. His shirt was torn and spattered with more blood. Whoever had attacked him had gone all out.

"Oh Jack…" At the sound of her voice, his eyelids flickered. When they opened it was with considerable effort.

"See the lengths I'll go to t' get you back," he said with a weak smile.

"I never left you, you silly man," said Sylvia, "Why can't you see that?" She sank to her knees beside the low bed and kissed his hand marvelling at how it alone seemed to have escaped harm. She kissed it again, feeling love so powerfully that it almost suffocated her.

"Why would someone do this to you?" she asked resisting the temptation to add 'what did you do?' Jack simply groaned in answer. What did it matter why? When she moved to get up, he reached for her, panicked.

"I need to clean you up," she said taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze, "I'll be right back with some water. Think you can stay out of trouble 'til I get back?" Jack closed his eyes, the flash of smile dissolving into pain.

♠♥♣

Her hands on him were like cool rain after a burning sun. It hurt as she dabbed his many cuts but it was a good hurt, the kind that leads to healing. Norrington had meant to kill him, he had no doubts about that, he'd come at him like a man possessed, hell fire and fury behind every strike. Gibbs's fortunate, if delayed, interruption had spared him, Jack was sure, but there was nothing to stop the disgraced Commodore from coming back.

"Jack, luv, please keep still," admonished Sylvia, her voice as delicate as her touch. What if Norrington burst in while she was here? Somehow Jack doubted Norrington's sense of honour would ever sink low enough to allow him to lay a hand on a woman but he wasn't about lay Sylvia's safety on the basis of his assumption…heaven knows, he'd been wrong before. Ignoring the intense pain that seared through his abdomen and chest as he moved, Jack sat up. Sylvia attempted to push him back down but was reluctant to put too much pressure on his chest lest she hurt him.

"I need me pistol," he said, sounding just as strained as he felt.

"Your pistol?" Sylvia repeated back to him, parrot fashion, "Why?"

"Because I want t' clean me teeth, why'd ye think?"

"I think you're a bloody fool if you think I'm going to give you a pistol and let you walk out that door in this state. Gibbs is right outside, no one's coming in here and you're not leaving until I say so, understood?" A little stunned and at a loss for what else to do, Jack allowed his body to fall back to the bed. Sylvia, pleased to see him listening to reason for a chance, ran a finger through his hair, fiddling with one of his many beads. He'd missed that, having her close, having her with him.

"Sylvia…"

"Don't," she said tightly, "There'll be a time for words." Jack looked at her, he really looked at her for the first time since she had stepped of the Flying Dutchman. Underneath the layers of sadness and weariness that had settled over her since then, she was still the same Sylvia he had rescued one fateful stormy night. How could he have believed that she would change? The only thing that had changed was his ability to listen to her. When the time did come, he would make sure he listened to every word.

♠♥♣

James Norrington stared at the hands in front of him. They could not be his, not when they were all covered in blood, the knuckles bruised from hitting another man over and over again. He flexed the fingers. Yes, they hurt, they were his. The truth was like a droplet on the surface of his jacket, then suddenly it was absorbed. He had beaten another man senseless. What had become of the man who had held honour and law above all things? Had his sense of decency been stripped along with his title? He had acted no better than a pirate himself. He had not exacted justice, he had given in to his most primitive urges. Whoever said revenge was sweet had some explaining to do. Former Commodore James Norrington had never felt more disgraced in all his life.

♠♥♣

"Mummy, come and look!"

Elizabeth closed her eyes, her head pounding. Laura was screaming, the unfamiliar sensation of being on the water upsetting her something awful. While she cried herself hoarse, her brother bounced around the deck pointing out everything he could see from clouds to waves to the buildings of Port Royal which were shrinking into the distance. Elizabeth knew she should have been glad that Tom was so excited, at least he had stopped asking about his father. The reality of the adventure had set in now, but only Tom was enjoying himself.

"Please Laura," Elizabeth begged, "Quiet down now, please." But Laura went on crying, deaf to pleading or bribery. Tom began calling her more urgently as Port Royal became but a dot on the horizon. Elizabeth could not bring herself to watch it disappear entirely but she pretended to for Tom's sake.

"Ok, Tom, that's enough. I need you to come with me, Laura needs a nap."

"But mother, I want to stay out here!"

"No arguments, Tom." Elizabeth could feel her headache worsening as Laura's continued balling tore through layer after layer of her patience and restraint.

"But…"

"I said no arguments!" She had not meant to shout. Tom hung his head.

"Sorry, mother," he said to his feet, "I'll come along now." Elizabeth took hold of his hand and gave it a little squeeze to let him know she was sorry too. Laura hiccupped, choking on her tears, then mercifully fell silent, blinking around at the world through watery eyes.

"Come on," said Elizabeth, "Let's find our cabin."

Laura was curled up on one of the beds, her brother beside her. Will had often commented on how devoted he was to his little sister, and how wrong they had been to suspect that there might be jealousy when she came along. Tom had never shown his sister anything but love, Elizabeth hoped that would always be the case. Watching them sleep contentedly together reminded her sharply of how alone she was. No one would be sleeping beside her tonight. She sat down on her own bed and leaned back, feeling the rocking motion of the ocean beneath her. She thought of Will. Where was he now? Had he found the house empty, his family gone? It was cruel beyond belief, Elizabeth knew, but it was no different to him walking away. How were they to know he would come back safe? How were they to know he would come back at all? Elizabeth sighed. Of course he would have come back. Will was not Jack, he would not abandon his family so lightly. He had left for what he perceived to be a good reason, but he had broken a promise to do it. Elizabeth didn't know what hurt more, the fact he had broken his promise or that he had made it in the first place knowing he would. Disappearing to England was certainly going to teach him a lesson. They had always said they would go one day, go back to the places they were both brought up, visit the relatives and friends they had left behind. She had never thought she would be going alone. _Not for long_, she told herself, _Will will follow._ Elizabeth was certain of that. He would follow them and he would be sorrier than he had ever been in his life. They would stay a few months in England, doing all that they had once planned to do, then they would return to Port Royal a happy family. Her father had foolishly put forward the scenario of Will, upon learning what had happened, giving up the search after a few days and returning to the sea as a pirate. Elizabeth had laughed. Will could fight and steal and deceive and lie but only when he had to. Will Turner was a husband and a father, a blacksmith and a proud member of society. If he was a pirate, it was only when he had no choice. He would follow them, she had no doubt about it.

♠♥♣

If there had been a boat leaving by the light of the moon, Governor Swann had no doubt that his son in law would have commissioned it to sail to England that very second. Perhaps that would have been better than the wait they both had to endure until morning, Will was unable to snatch a moment's rest knowing that he had driven his own family from their home. The poor boy had cried himself sick shortly after discovering the truth, his wretched sobs too much for Swann who took himself off for a moonlit walk. When he had returned, Will had been waiting for him and the interrogation began. Where are they going? When did they leave? What did they take with them? How long did Elizabeth say she was planning to be gone for? Did she leave me a message? Does she want me to follow?

"She left no message," said Governor Swann remembering all too clearly Elizabeth's instructions, "I'm not even sure I was supposed to tell you where they were going." Poor Will. He opened and closed his mouth, words escaping him. _Oh Elizabeth_, Governor Swann thought, _if you could see him now._

"I will take the first ship bound for England," Will said as soon as he found his voice again, "I will search every town until I find them. I should never have…"

"Never mind regrets," said Governor Swann, "Just find them, and when you do, be wise and make sure you never let them go again."

♠♥♣

Elizabeth was definitely beginning to regret not bringing one of the household maids with her, the girl that was supposed to be attending to them on the ship seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable to dictate her own working hours. Rising early was certainly not something Verity subscribed to, which left Elizabeth to dress a squirming Laura while an over excited Tom begged to be allowed to explore on his own.

"Tom, if you ask again you shan't be leaving this cabin for the rest of the day." That bought her five minutes peace during which Laura dribbled down the front of her dress. She did not know why she would not allow Tom a little bit of freedom, what possible harm could come on this ship? Most of the passengers were merchants or men hoping for work in England, much to Tom's disappointment. He had been hoping for a ship full of pirates, no doubt. Perhaps he had even expected to see his father and Jack, it was impossible to tell what went on in the mind of a child.

"Oh Laura, will you please keep still?" Her stubborn little daughter always refused to have her hair brushed. 'Like mother, like daughter,' Will had said playfully but Will wasn't going to help get the job done this time, no use thinking of him. Laura slipped from her hands like a bar of soap and crawled across the floor just as there was a soft knock on the door.

"It's only me, Mrs Turner."

"Verity, where in the devil's name have you been?"

"Sorry, ma'am, I were…" Elizabeth hoisted Laura up off the floor and pressed her into Verity's arms.

"I've changed my mind," she said, "I don't want to know. Please finish dressing her while I take Tom up on deck, I fear he might burst if he doesn't get out in the fresh air soon."

Tom was holding her hand, his way of saying thank you. Elizabeth could still remember when his hand had only been big enough to wrap around one of her fingers, and now there was a proper boy's hand inside her own. One day he would let go of her hand and walk alone but not today, today he was still her little boy and she was his mother, and there was nothing in the world that could put a black mark on their love.

"I wish daddy was with us." A poison dart hit her straight in the heart, perfect aim.

"So do I, my dear." Elizabeth's longing lingered on but Tom was quick to find a new subject.

"There's a bird there, look!" A single seagull soared over the top of them, its wings barely moving as rode the air currents. Tom watched it until it disappeared as if he had never seen a gull before. Elizabeth wished she could capture some of his excitement, it would be nice to forget about adult worries for a while.

"There's another one," she said pointing.

"Oh yeah!" said Tom delighted that she was joining in, "Do you think we might see one of those great big monsters that Uncle Jack told us about?"

"You never know," said Elizabeth who could not recall Jack saying anything about monsters, he had probably waited until she was out of the room so he would not be told off, "We'll have to keep our eyes open." Tom looked up, his young face glowing with happiness.

"Thank you for taking us on this adventure," he said. Elizabeth had to look away so that he would not see the new shine in her eyes.

"I love you, Tom," she said as she faced the grey-blue churning ocean.

"I love you too, mummy."

♠♥♣

Captain Shaw surveyed the man before him. He recognised him as Mr Turner, the blacksmith who got himself married into the prestigious Swann family via the Governor's daughter, Elizabeth. He had never had dealings with him but word travelled in a place like Port Royal. The Turner/Swann marriage had kept the gossips busy for months, but that was many years ago now. Mr Turner was well established in society. His skills as well as his union were renowned, if you wanted a top quality weapon you went to Turner Blacksmiths and you left satisfied. He was a man who had everything, and yet here he was asking for passage to England.

"What's in England that's got you so keen to be out on the water?" Captain Shaw asked curiously. He was as sure as a man can be that honest Turner would not have got himself on the wrong side of the law but he had been wrong before and he had no desire to harbour fugitives on his ship.

"My family," was the reply. That was a different matter entirely. There was no more need for questioning. "They left yesterday on the _Scarlet Tempest_."

"A fine ship," said Captain Shaw appreciatively, "They'll have made good time."

"Then we must make good time too," said Mr Turner forcefully. Captain Shaw grinned, something he did not often do. He stroked his grizzled beard and nodded. Time to see if the stories of Turner being a fine sailor were right too.

♠♥♣

"Ya! Tera! Cye!"

"I think she's trying to say my name," said Tom optimistically. He was lying on his stomach, making his sister laugh with silly faces. As he stuck his tongue out, she doubled up, her gurgling giggles making Verity laugh along with her.

"That sister of yours sure is a smiler, she'll be wowing all the men with that precious grin when she's a grown lass." Tom wrinkled up his nose. He didn't really understand what Verity meant by 'wowing all the men' but he didn't like the sound of it. Besides, Laura only smiled like this when he played with her and he would not have it any other way.

"Where's your mother got to, I wonder?" Verity mused, clearly bored, "Think I'll go and look for her. You'll be alright on your own, won't you?" Tom nodded, he had everything under control. His mother had only been gone a few minutes, claiming that she needed some air to clear her head, and Tom knew she would not be gone long, he got the feeling she was not very keen on leaving them alone with Verity. Laura was dribbling on her front, her little mouth stretched in a smile as she looked up at her much adored brother.

"Tera!" she said, "Tera!"

"No," said Tom laughing, "Tom."

"Tera!" Tom did not even notice when Verity slipped from the room, not to look for Elizabeth as she had said but rather to see if she could steal a few minutes with that rosy cheeked deck hand with the bright smile and the quick hands. She did not intend to be away long enough for her to be missed by her employer, but neither Verity nor anyone else could have known what was to happen next.

♠♥♣

Elizabeth breathed deeply, the wind whipping her hair into her face. She had never experienced sea sickness before and she was not convinced that was what was wrong with her now. She rather thought it was an overwhelming sense of regret. Regret so stifling that even now in the fresh, sea air she felt like there was a hand clamped over her mouth. What was she doing out here? What was she trying to prove? _Oh Will_. She had thought herself so strong and so independent but in reality she needed Will, for all his rash bravery. Was it not that bravery that had first captured her heart? He would not have left her and the children had they been in any danger, but with his family safe at home in Port Royal he had been willing to sail to the rescue of a friend. That was the Will she had fallen in love with. That was the Will she had married and loved still. If Elizabeth could have commanded the ship to turn back, she would have gladly done so. She consoled herself instead with the thought of another ship following their own, her own brave Will on board. She took one last deep breath before turning round to head back to her children and Verity but there was something strange in the air, something that was not the fresh, salty smell that she had meant to have been enjoying for the last few minutes. Warning bells were already starting to ring in Elizabeth's head before a real bell sounded close by on deck. She span round trying to see what was happening. Connections snapped together so fast in her head that she could not separate them. The smell of burning wood, the sight of smoke and the terrible realisation that the ship she and her children were on was on fire!

Panic. Rippling, crushing waves of panic. Fear was written in the faces all around her as Elizabeth pushed her way through the people to reach the stairs. Nobody seemed to know what was going on. There was a lot of shouting and some screams. Elizabeth did not stop to think of anything but her two children below decks. She had to get to them. She had to reach them. No doubt they had heard the commotion by now, Elizabeth just hoped that Verity was waiting for her to get to them before following everyone up on deck. People kept knocking into her in their hurry to get past and more than once Elizabeth had to fight to keep to her feet. She pushed herself onwards. There was the door, her children beyond it.

"Tom! Laura!" Their names burst from deep within her sounding harsher than they had ever done before. Before she could reach it, the door opened and there stood Tom, his eyes huge in his round face. In his arms, her eyes squeezed tight shut, was Laura, her limbs stiff with fear. Elizabeth collapsed to her knees, enveloping them both in her arms.

"Where's Verity?" she asked without looking round.

"She's gone," Tom whispered, "What's going on? Why is everyone running?" Elizabeth took Laura from his arms. She whispered a few soothing words in her daughter's tiny ear and Laura relaxed enough to curl up against her mother. In other circumstances, Elizabeth would have cradled her and sung to her until she fell into a safe, warm sleep but there was no time. She stood up, taking Tom firmly by one hand.

"Where are we going?" Tom asked, his voice rising higher and higher in his panic, "What's happening?"

"It's alright," said Elizabeth trying her best to be soothing, "There's been an accident and we need to get off the boat."

"An accident?" Tom was breathless, Elizabeth was pulling him along too fast but she dare not stop. The smell of smoke was getting harder to ignore and every time she turned a corner she was sure she was going to see bright, leaping flames. Nothing prepared her for the sight that met her eyes when they made it up on deck. Tom's questions stopped as his jaw dropped open, his eyes reflecting the mast towering above them, its sails ablaze. His grip on Elizabeth's hand suddenly tightened and then he was pulling at her, trying to get her to move but Elizabeth could not get her legs to cooperate. She was standing on a ship with her children and it was on fire. This couldn't be happening. This was a dream. In a moment Will would lean over and wake her up, and hold her while she sobbed.

"Mummy, we have to go!" Tom shouted and Elizabeth knew that this was no nightmare, this was real and she had to act. She turned sharply, surprising Tom and almost throwing him off balance. There were people shouting directions, trying to shepherd people into the long boats. Elizabeth began to walk quickly, almost run, towards the nearest boat. If anything happened to Laura or Tom, Will would never forgive her.

"Miss, step this way, quickly now."

To get down to the boat, which was already floating on the dark water, Elizabeth had to let go of Tom's hand. She made him go first, the fear that he would be pushed aside if she wasn't there chilling her heart. Laura had started to cry, her screams joining countless others, rising to join the wind that was spreading the flames ever onwards. None of them would ever find out the cause of the fire, a simple oil burner left unattended, knocked over by the swell. There was no time to question how or why, there was only the chance to escape, to survive. It was only when all three of them were seated in the crowded longboat, the men rowing them away from the ship, that Elizabeth grasped what had happened. They were adrift in the middle of the ocean. A clap of thunder overhead made everyone look up. Tom shivered and tried to bury himself deeper into his mother's side. Elizabeth did her best to comfort him and the now silent Laura but she could not keep the rain off their heads or conjure up another ship to take them home. She could only hold them, close her eyes and pray that they would be alright.

♠♥♣

Captain Shaw had been watching Mr Turner on and off since they had left Port Royal. The lad had pitched in with any job that needed doing, proving himself as more than capable at every task. His preoccupation only became obvious when the jobs were done, in every spare minute Will was looking out across the ocean, shielding his eyes with one hand and leaning right out to give himself a better view. He had borrowed a spyglass off one of the crew during the day and was looking through it now, scanning every inch of the water as if hoping to conjure something up from the depths. Even now, with a dark storm rolling in, Will was still trying to spot the _Scarlet Tempest_ on the horizon.

"Better to rest," said Captain Shaw stepping forwards, "You'll see nothing when it starts to rain." The first few spots started as he spoke and Shaw knew that in a few short minutes they would be witnessing a deluge. Reluctantly Will lowered the spyglass, folded it carefully and slipped it into his pocket but still he did not turn and head inside.

"They can't be too far ahead," Captain Shaw assured him. Will nodded, forcing himself to believe. He gave the Captain a very small smile before heading off without a word. Captain Shaw watched him until he was out of sight then headed towards his cabin. He had no intention of being soaked to the skin if he could help it. The boy needed to stop worrying, it was putting everyone on edge.

* * *

A/N: And things go from very bad to even worse! Thank you for your comments on the last chapter, what do you think of this one?


	11. The Truth Of It

A/N: I just looked at the calendar and scared myself, I didn't realise how far into October we are! Happily, I've still had time to write so here we are...finally, the truth.

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Chapter Eleven: The Truth of It

Jack was sleeping. Sylvia was glad, mainly because she knew he was free from pain for the moment, but also because the time for the truth was drawing nearer. Strangely now Jack was willing to listen, Sylvia found herself holding back. The urge to keep what had happened a secret was powerful, it felt like hiding away a jewel so no one else would ever see it, and yet this was no jewel. And Jack had a right to know. He did, didn't he? Yes, he did. But what of her rights? They had not been given much consideration when Jack had tried to use her as bait, then allowed her onto another ship, a cursed ship, in order to buy himself time. She had forgiven him because she loved him, and she understood his reasons, but it still hurt that he had not apologised. She was not an item to be traded at will. She had just as much right to be angry and hurt as he did. Sylvia had the sudden urge to shake Jack awake and make him explain himself but she fought against it. He did not need more pain. Neither did she.

Gibbs jerked awake the moment she opened the door. He had his treasured rum flask clutched in his arms like a security blanket.

"Sylvia? Everythin' alright?" he said as he blinked blearily up at her, "Jack not bein' attacked again, is he?" Sylvia laughed then realised that Gibbs probably wasn't joking.

"No, Jack's fine, he's sleeping. I thought I'd take a walk, get some air."

"Ye can't go out alone," Gibbs said, "I'll…" His offer to accompany her was cut short when he realised that would mean leaving Jack unprotected. Jack had an unknown enemy who might still be lurking around, but that enemy might equally choose to strike at that which was closest to Jack's heart which meant Sylvia might well me in danger. Gibbs's thoughts were almost visible in his frowning face as he tried to work out what the best course of action would be.

"I'll be alright, Gibbs," Sylvia assured him, "I'm not going far and I don't want Jack to be left alone." Gibbs looked far from certain but when Sylvia took a determined step away from him, he grabbed his pistol and held it out to her.

"Just in case," he said. Sylvia took it, weighing the heavy object on her hand. She did not own a weapon of any kind despite Jack's eagerness for her to arm herself when they were on land. Sometimes she carried a dagger to keep him happy but she would not take a gun, she had taken life before and she did not want to do it again. Accepting Gibbs's pistol, however, would keep him happy and mean she could go outside without an escort, something she was very keen on doing.

"I won't be long," she said with a smile as she tucked the pistol into her belt.

The night was cloudy but warm enough for her to be comfortable walking slowly towards the harbour. She could hear the sea, and its endless movement was already soothing her heart and mind. All her life she had been drawn to the sea, just like Jack, just like Davy. She had known that her thoughts would turn to him sooner rather than later, nothing she did could drive him from her mind for long. Even while she had been soothing Jack she had thought of Davy Jones and wondered whether sometime long ago the women in his heart had once looked after him in the same way. Had she been there for him in the way she was for Jack? Had she ever rescued him? Had she ever just held his hand when there was nothing else she could do? Sylvia shivered. It felt as if someone had passed close behind her but when she turned there was no one there.

The sea was black, blacker even than the sky which in contrast looked grey. Sylvia sat down on damp wood, she ran her hand over the slimy grain remembering. If she thought hard enough she could make him appear before her again. His voice was easier to conjure. She heard it all the time, words she would never forget.

"I want ye t' do something fer me." She had been so sure of what he wanted. She remembered the exact look in his eyes, and hindsight, in all infinite wisdom, that she should have known then that he would never touch her, that he could not touch her. His plan to break the hearts of two lovers was costing him more than he could afford to lose. He had wanted her to leave him alone for the duration of the night, that was his request, that was what he wanted from her. She had stared at him, disbelieving. She could never have dared to hope for such a let off and yet, she had not felt relieved. Before her stood a man drowning in the poisonous ruins of love, and because he was so hurt that was the fate he wanted for all lovers. That was what awaited her if she let him break her, that was what awaited Jack if he could not forgive her. The ugliness of love's consequences stood before her and she knew she could not leave. Request denied.

♠♥♣

Will had been tossing and turning all night, so far he had been unable to get a wink of sleep. No dreams had haunted him but he had been unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He needed sleep, that much was evident. He was going to go mad if he did not relax somehow. Around him, the crew slept, occasionally stirring but never waking. The sound of sleep so close by only reminded Will that it was evading him and he finally decided that a dose of fresh air could not do any harm.

The sky was a deep purple-grey, the stormy colour of night. Will shivered and pulled his coat closer around him but that did little to stop the cruel wind from chilling him to the bone. He realised too late that being outside was only drawing him further into wakefulness. He would never sleep now, and would probably spend the whole day in a useless semi-alert state. What good would that do Elizabeth or the children? Just thinking about them made his insides twist and writh. They were out there ahead of him somewhere, without him. It was then, with that thought still fresh in his mind, that Will saw the shadow of something in the water. He watched it draw closer. It was probably a piece of driftwood, that was common enough, only Will found himself growing more and more uneasy as the object got closer. He leaned over the side of the ship to get a closer look and found he was looking at a sizeable piece of hull, the edges of which were blackened. Cannon fire? With a thrill of fear he began to scan the water ahead. The moment he saw another large chunk of wood he began to shout, desperate to rally the crew. Something terrible had happened, he had proof before his eyes. _Please don't let it be the Tempest. Please, please God._

♠♥♣

"Do you always disobey your orders?" Davy Jones asked with a sort of weary acceptance. Sylvia had expected anger but apparently he was too tired for that.

"I do make a habit of it, yes." She would make it clear she was not leaving right from the start.

"My crew don't disobey me twice." It wasn't a threat, merely a fact.

"I'm not your crew."

"No…you're not." There was a long silence. Sylvia found that even the sound of Davy's tentacles writhing gently did not bother her as much as it had at first. She still could not believe she had kissed him but even the guilt was receding.

"What do you see when you look at me?" Sylvia was not sure whether Davy had actually spoken or whether her thoughts had just taken on his voice.

"I see someone who lost his way. I see…"

"Go on."

"I see the dangers of obsession. I see the dark side of love." Another silence, thicker than the last, almost choking.

"And what do you see?" Sylvia asked at last, "When you look at me?"

"I see…_her_."

The vividness of her memories were startling. She was there, and she was there often. Too often. How would Jack ever understand? How could she explain to him all that had been and all that now was? Horribly, Sylvia was even beginning to think that it might have been better if the night had gone the way she had expected it to when she had offered herself to Davy Jones. She had at least been partly prepared for that. She would have hated him for it, and she would have wept an ocean in tears, but it would have been over and she would not now be sitting thinking. Oh, how she hated thinking. If only she could close her eyes and forget. But what use was that wish? She already knew it was impossible. Better to wish that Jack would understand. Better to wish for that.

♠♥♣

Jack was dreaming, a most unpleasant dream it was too. Figures without discernable faces kept knocking into him but when Jack turned to challenge them they vanished into smoke and mist. Frustrated, Jack told himself to wake up and was most surprised when his sleeping self obeyed his request and he found himself looking at the ceiling. It did not take him long to remember that the bruises inflicted in his dream had real life counterparts. Grumbling, he sat up and looked around for Sylvia only to find her absent. Before he could even think of trying to find her the door opened and a pretty little wench slipped into the room.

"Oh Jack, you're awake," said Sylvia, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, luv," replied Jack, "Though it would have been a blessing if you had."

"Another bad dream?" Sylvia asked, "You'll sleep better when these bruises have gone down." A tiny frown creased her forehead as she looked upon his face but the next moment it was gone. She kissed his forehead and sat down. The air had become very still all of a sudden, like the moment before a great wave crashes down upon the shore. Jack could see it building even before Sylvia started to speak. It started first in her eyes, then it travelled downwards until it reached her hands which clasped themselves together, something she would never do when relaxed.

"I'd like to tell you what happened, Jack," she said finally, "Everything that happened." Jack's first thought was that he was going to need rum for this but wisely he decided not to venture forth this opinion, Sylvia had rarely looked so serious, the one other time she had Jack thought he was going to lose her. He was not going to lose her now.

"Please don't interrupt, Jack…I need to get it all out in one go. I don't think I can do it otherwise."

"Alright, luv," said Jack as he reached for her hand, "I won't say a word."

♠♥♣

"Did she leave you?" Sylvia asked. She was no longer looking at Davy, in fact her eyes were closed but she was not in darkness. There was a man in shadow before her, she could only make out his tall outline but every moment he was getting a bit clearer, as if a lights were slowly being turned on around him.

"Leave me?" There was dry laughter in Davy's voice but it did not disguise the tremor that shook it. "How can you leave someone you were never with?"

"She never loved you?" Such brutal questions. She knew they had to hurt and part of her wanted to stop asking them but on they came, like knives in the dark.

"She may have loved me, in her way," said Davy ruefully, "Never in the way I loved her." Sylvia could see how the man was dressed now. Long, navy jacket, big, black boots, smart, almost naval officer wear.

"Why? Why did you love her?" More lights were flickering into life, but not enough, she wanted to see him, she needed to see him.

"Why?" Davy echoed, "I don't know why." Sylvia almost opened her eyes at that point but caught herself just in time. She knew, somehow, that if she was to let light in now the image she could see would vanish forever.

"You must know why," she said, "At least, part of the reason. Was she beautiful?"

"Does that matter?" asked Davy sounding displeased for the first time since they had started talking, "Is that what love means to you?" Sylvia was forced to push the stranger in her mind aside to think of Jack. He was beautiful, but that wasn't why she loved him.

"No," she said, "But I am not a man."

"Neither am I," said Davy.

"But you were," said Sylvia, "And men confuse love with lust. They love with their eyes not their hearts."

"And women do not? That is not love," said Davy impatiently, adding softly, "But maybe it is better that way…true love is dangerous."

"Yes," whispered Sylvia, "It is." She could see the man's face now, and he was looking straight at her. It was the face of someone who has looked straight at despair, straight at sorrow and grief and not turned away. There was something in his hand too, something sharp…a knife.

"Ok, not why," said Sylvia, "What about her did you love?" Davy sighed. The knives were getting sharper and cutting deeper.

"Everything." _Of course._

"Were you ever happy together?" The man was raising the knife, but his eyes were still fixed intently on Sylvia. _You will watch this_, he was saying and Sylvia knew she had no choice.

"Yes. We were happy once. I was happy." The words were fragile, hardly real, like the top of a wave that is soon to plummet back into the ocean. What did happiness really mean? Suddenly, the man in her mind, with one last look at her, closed his eyes and plunged the knife deep into his chest. He screamed. Sylvia screamed. And Davy Jones winced in pain.

♠♥♣

"It was him, Davy Jones, and I saw him…I saw him cut out his heart." Horrible, clawing nausea forced Sylvia to stop talking, the first time she had paused since she had begun. Jack was staring at her like he didn't understand something. He had kept to his word and been silent but now that she had stopped he took the opportunity to ask a question.

"So…he never…he never touched you?" Sylvia shook her head. Her mind was awash with bright red blood. She was sure if she opened her mouth she would be sick. Jack suddenly took hold of her and looked her right in the eye, there was an incredible infectious smile on his face.

"Why didn't ye tell me before?" he asked incredulously. He gave her shoulders a playful shake. "An' you call me a fool!" Sylvia stared at him. Didn't he understand? She had seen a man carve his own heart out…she had seen a man's life end and a demon's begin…she was a different woman to the one she had been before, and all Jack could do was grin deliriously. In his eyes, at least, there had been no change. Weakly, Sylvia returned his smile and allowed him to hold her. She listened to the steady beat of his heart as he stroked her hair and light-heartedly scolded her for making such a big deal out of nothing. Nothing, that's what the whole ordeal had been to him. Just another brush with death, or worse. Just another adventure to recall to his godson when the lights were low. Sylvia closed her eyes and tried to be as happy as Jack was. _We were happy once_. No! This was not the same. Jack loved her and she loved Jack. It didn't matter that there were some things he would never understand, no doubt it worked the other way round. But no matter how hard Sylvia reasoned, and how hard she tried to forget, it just took one blink to take her back to the Flying Dutchman and the man who had taught her to fear love above all things.

♠♥♣

A chilling unease had settled over the whole of Captain Shaw's crew in the wake of young Turner's discovery. It had not taken them long to identify the ruined ship as the Scarlet Tempest. Captain Shaw had once sailed on her with a number of the present crew, they would have recognised her anywhere, in pieces or not. Mr Turner had been beside himself, almost hysterical as they found body after body, drowned souls but not nearly enough of them to account for everyone onboard, and there were no ladies nor children which was, as he had tried to tell Mr Turner, nothing short of a blessing. But Turner had not been passified. Captain Shaw was sure he would have dived into the water to continue the search had he not been restrained by two crewmen and taken below. He was now locked in the Captain's cabin to prevent him from doing harm to himself, though Captain Shaw was not sure what he was going to find when he unlocked the door. Bracing himself, he removed the key from his belt and turned it in the lock. Will was at the door at once.

"Have you found them?" he asked in one breath, his eyes over bright in his pale face. Captain Shaw shook his head. Will turned away, his hands shaking. Captain Shaw cleared his throat.

"There's a chance that they made it to land in one of the longboats. The coast is not far from here."

"Do you really believe whoever attacked that ship left them alive?" Will asked, but there was no hope in the question.

"It's possible," said Captain Shaw who preferred to look on the positive side of life, "We can make enquiries when we get into port. If survivors came ashore, the news is bound to have spread."

"And if they didn't?" Will asked in a whisper, "If they were taken prisoner?"

"Prisoner?" repeated Captain Shaw, "We don't even know that the ship was attacked. It could have been an accident." Will shook his head. He tried to say something but his voice broke and it was a while before he could continue. When he did Captain Shaw could not understand what he was saying.

"She said I shouldn't have left them…she said they wouldn't return. Oh God…"

"Who?" Captain Shaw asked.  
"I shouldn't have left them," Will continued, "I shouldn't have…" He swallowed hard. Captain Shaw stepped forwards and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. Will flinched but did not draw away.

"What's done is done," said Captain Shaw, "There's still hope that your family is alive, and while there's hope you can never give up. If they are alive they will be waiting for you to find them. We'll make enquiries as soon as we make port and you can decide on your next course of action from there." With that, he drew his hand away and turned. The crew needed to be given orders and Will needed time alone with his thoughts.

♠♥♣

There was water everywhere, in her mouth, up her nose. She choked, panicking, and swallowed a whole mouthful. Her last thoughts before the water closed around her were for her daughter and her son, stolen from her. With her last second of air she prayed for their safety.

* * *

A/N: I'm really interested in what you guys think of this chapter as Sylvia's recollections have a bearing on many of the previous chapters. I hope everything was clear enough, and easy to follow. Thank you very much for your thoughts on the last chapter, as always I look forward to hearing from you.


	12. The Letter

A/N: Halloween and Bonfire Night came and went without an update but finally here it is! It really feels like winter now, doesn't it? It was so beautifully foggy yesterday, fog always puts me in a serious writing mood and that reminded me that I hadn't updated in a little while. So, thank the weather ;-). Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter Twelve: The Letter

"Come on, luv," Jack cajoled, "You've hardly let anything past those pretty lips of yours." He thrust the half full bottle of rum into her hands almost falling into her lap in the process. His lips had not been nearly as sealed as hers. Sylvia half caught him, laughter already spilling from her. She had not seen Jack this delirious with happiness for some time and the sight, whatever the reason for it, was beautiful. His cuts and bruises, painful enough to keep him firmly in the confines of the room upstairs without so much as a protest a few short hours ago, seemed to have faded away to nothing since they had talked. The rest of the crew had picked up on Jack's buoyant mood and were all around them in various stages of drunkenness. Gibbs was leading a choir of them in the corner in a rendition of a song Sylvia had heard him hum under his breath a number of times. Jack stood up, her hand firmly in his, and soon they had joined Gibbs and Jack had taken charge. Perhaps it was because he was Captain but everyone seemed to try that little bit harder when Jack was around, even when all they were doing was trying to hold a tune. Sylvia looked at all the smiling faces and decided right then that whatever she was having to bury was worth it. Jack, as passionately as he believed otherwise, would never understand the alien world that women inhabit. If she wanted someone to understand she would have to talk to another woman. Maybe Elizabeth if she got the chance, now that Jack was smiling again perhaps they could go back to Port Royal for a visit, Jack would surely want to see Tom and Laura, and Sylvia was eager to apologise for the disruption she had inadvertently caused and thank Will properly for his heroism.

"Sylvia!" She looked round and found everyone was looking at her, the sight of so many eyes staring back at her was quite alarming.

"Yer looking a trifle too serious for our liking," said Jack, his eyes were glittering with something more than too much rum. "Come, join in. Ye've got a right pretty voice."

"Oh no, Jack," Sylvia tried to protest, "I can't sing in front of everyone." But there were hands pressing her back and more dragging her forwards. It didn't look like she had much choice.

"Oh alright!" she cried, half exasperated, half thrilled. She snatched a bottle of rum straight out of Gibbs's hand and downed a quart of it in one go. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she handed the bottle back, cleared her throat and began to sing. Soon the whole inn was alive with the sound of clapping hands, thumping boots and the thin, slightly wavering voice of the only woman pirate on the Pearl.

♠♥♣

Norrington found his boots leading him towards the warm yellow light and the sound of laughter. He already knew he would not be welcome, but that didn't matter, he did not intend to interrupt the merry band. All he wanted was to bask for an hour or two in their solidarity and good spirits. The sight and sound of friends threw his own lonliness and isolation into sharper relief yet he felt drawn towards happiness more powerfully with every day that passed. It was a punishment, he knew. His ungovernable actions with Sparrow laid heavily on his conscience along with the deaths of the men he had led to their deaths in the hurricane. Worse still was the dim awareness that he might have enjoyed handing Sparrow the beating he deserved if he had not met Sylvia beforehand. Deceiving her, a former member of the same society he had been cast from, made things worse somehow. If she had not been involved, if he had stumbled across a drunken Sparrow quite by accident, perhaps he would have been able to wash the blood from his hands without guilt. He would never know.

The inn was the same one he had been thrown out of a week ago for starting a fight, although, Norrington noted bitterly, he had been sorely provoked. Wondering whether he would be refused entry, he hesitated just shy of the doorway. The words of the song being sung were clear from here. Norrington had heard it many times during his time in this festering pit of humanity. A fondness for sea shanties seemed to be a requirement for piracy. A disastrous high note caused Norrington to wince but only provoked a roar of laughter from inside then someone spoke, and Norrington froze.

"Raise yer glasses to the finest singer in Tortuga, gents!" More laughter and then a second voice, this time distinctly female.

"I'd be better if you didn't keep dragging me down!"

"Yer excuse for everything."

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"True enough!"

Norrington was no longer in doubt. A few paces away, at the centre of the lively, laughing crowd, were Jack Sparrow and Sylvia, apparently no worse for wear. The singing started up again and Norrington distinctly heard the gravely voice of Gibbs leading this time, a tune which he had sung long ago when he had been a respectable sailor, before he became a pirate. Feeling that the combination of nostalgia and discomfort were too much, Norrington lurched away his head feeling lighter than it did after four bottles of rum. For the first night in many he fell asleep without the aid of alcohol and in his dreams both Jack and Sylvia were smiling.

♠♥♣

Jack woke to find he was in a bed, not only that he was in bed with Sylvia who was curled up having snagged all the covers sometime previously. Delighted, he sat up. The room gave a terrific spin and all the bruises that he had forgotten about shouted loudly in protest. Oh well, he supposed it was too much to hope for that he would wake up in the right place with the right person and pain free. Feeling in definite need of some refreshment that was not rum related he dressed and made his way downstairs narrowly avoiding tripping over a scraggy looking tabby cat that had been napping on the bottom step. The bar was a mess, overturned tables and bottles littered the floor. A young woman was cleaning up with a weary kind of acceptance. She returned Jack's greeting rather more cheerily than he had been expecting. When she called his name a moment later as he was about to leave Jack began to suspect she had got the wrong idea. He hesitated as he gave running for it a serious thought.

"You are Jack Sparrow, ain't ya?" He turned, ingratiating smile already in place.

"Depends who's looking for him." The woman grinned back, Jack counted three missing teeth and ran his teeth over his own gold ones subconsciously.

"Gots a letter for ya," she said and she pulled an envelope from a pocket in her apron. Jack half expected to have to bargain for it but she handed it over without fuss.

"Hope it's good news," she said before going back to her cleaning without another word.

Jack stared at the envelope. It wasn't usual for him to receive correspondence, which was hardly surprising considering the sort he associated with and the lack of any semblance of a fixed address. The appearance of this, neatly labelled, postage was therefore quite an event and Jack was more than a little suspicious of what it might contain. A very brief feel indicated that it really was just a letter with nothing hidden inside and Jack felt his interest begin to wane. Maybe he'd open it later, or give it to Sylvia, she seemed to treasure her three or so letters beyond price despite the fact all of them were from Elizabeth and none of them contained anything worth reading, in Jack's humble opinion. He left the inn and commenced a brisk walk towards the shore. His head felt a lot clearer out in the open air, everything was still a little blurred around the edges but Jack was far too used to that to be concerned. The sight of the Pearl floating just off shore filled him like a sail in a high wind. Even now, after years of knowing her, she could still take his breath away. He smiled and saluted her.

"Here's to you, luv," he murmured under his breath. The movement dislodged the letter from his pocket and it fluttered rather dispiritedly to the floor. Jack stared at it for a moment or two before scooping it up again. He turned it over and gently prised the envelope open. He unfolded one sheet of paper with writing so hastily scratched that it was nearly impossible to make out. Squinting at it, Jack finally managed to make sense of the sprawling words. He had only got halfway through when the hand holding the letter began to shake. Without waiting to finish it, he turned and ran back to the inn, the letter squashed in his closed fist.

♠♥♣

When the door burst open Sylvia didn't know what to think so she screamed. Jack winced, his head presumably just as delicate as hers, and Sylvia immediately shut her mouth but it was too late. Within seconds Gibbs appeared and after him a succession of equally concerned crew who did not seem to believe that she was alright and that it had been a mistake. Finally Jack lost his patience and a few angry words from him sent them all scurrying back to where they had come from with their tails between their legs. Sylvia wondered if she screamed again whether anyone would come at all.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said when everyone had gone, "But you did give me one hell of a fright…is everything…?" She did not need to finish her question. All the colour Jack had gained the previous night had drained away and he was staring at something in his hand.

"What is it?" Sylvia asked, "What's wrong?" Jack smoothed out the piece of paper in his hand and continued to stare at it until Sylvia was sure she was going to scream again out of fear and frustration.

"It's from Will," Jack said finally holding the letter out to her, "He's on his way here."

"On his way here? Why…?" But she had hold of the letter now and could read the answer for herself. Sitting back on the bed, she began to decipher Will's uncharacteristically hasty handwriting.

_Jack,_

_Something terrible has happened. Elizabeth and the children were not in Port Royal when I arrived. Governor Swann told me that they had gone to England, he believes Elizabeth wanted to punish me for leaving the way I did. I followed her on a different ship hoping to catch her but all we found was their ship in pieces. No one knows what happened, no one knows anything and there are no survivors. I've been told to give up, to face facts, but I can't believe their dead, Jack. I just can't. I'm on my way to Tortuga. If you're reading this, it means I was right in thinking I could find you there. I need your compass, Jack. It's the only thing that will tell me for sure…_

_Will_

Sylvia's mouth suddenly felt very dry. No survivors. What hope was there for any of them? The thought of Laura, still only a baby, and Tom, a mere child…and Elizabeth, dear, kind, feisty Elizabeth. She looked up at Jack and saw that his eyes were very bright. The next thing Sylvia noticed was the compass. She knew about its strange property, she had held it three times and every time it had pointed to wherever Jack had been, that was proof enough of its power for her.

"Have you tried it?" she breathed, not knowing whether she wanted to know the answer or not. Jack shook his head. The letter seemed very heavy all of a sudden, Sylvia laid it down on the bed. All too vividly, an image of the man who had written it came to her mind's eye. Will lived and breathed for his family, and now he was holding onto the increasingly fragile hope that he had not killed them all.

"It's my fault," said Jack.

"What?" Jack sighed, one hand running absently over the closed shell of the compass.

"If he hadn't left Port Royal with me Elizabeth would never have…why would she take off like that?" The sharpness of his question made Sylvia jump and it made her think. Why had Elizabeth left for England?

"She didn't want Will to go and he went," she said, "She was hurt and angry. People do things they wouldn't usually do when they're upset."

"But t' run away? With the children?" Jack was pacing now, his footsteps marking out the extent of his distress. "She knew Will'd be comin' back."

"Of course she did," said Sylvia, "But Elizabeth isn't one to wait for things to happen, is she? Do you…do you think there's any chance…?" Jack stopped pacing abruptly and whipped the compass from his belt. He opened it and stood perfectly still. Sylvia held her breath as the needle began to spin. Twenty seconds later and the needle was still spinning, turning this way and that, never settling. Sylvia began to get a very queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Half of her longed to leap over and knock the compass to the ground just so she wouldn't have to watch it lurch backwards and forwards, but the other half was held captive but the swaying needle sure that any moment it was going to stop and they could both begin to believe that things were going to be ok. Suddenly Jack snapped the compass shut.

"That doesn' mean anything," he said, for whose benefit Sylvia couldn't be sure. His determined look was the last straw as far as her composure was concerned. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Jack was by her side in an instant, his arms around her. He didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.

♠♥♣

Tortuga was a completely different town in daylight, it could almost pass for being respectable but Will would not have noticed if the whole town was ablaze. His every moment was consumed by guilt, agony and sorrow. He still refused to believe that his family had been taken from him but ghostly images haunted his dreams and were beginning to invade even his daylight hours now that his sleep was so disturbed. A whole week has passed since he had first seen the remains of the Tempest but the weight that had settled on his heart in that moment seemed like it spanned eternity and beyond. Tom and Laura had called for him and he had not been there. Elizabeth had called for him and he had not been there. Nothing and no one could ease the burden he now carried, nothing and no one but the family he had lost.

"I'm looking for Jack Sparrow." His voice sounded hoarse, almost like he had not used for years rather than days. The look in the eyes of the woman in front of him told him that his appearance had deteriorated significantly enough to be noticed even by a lowly Tortuga prostitute.

"Jack Sparra?" she repeated, rolling the name of her tongue with unnerving familiarity. "I mighta seen him but it'll cost ya." Will had been expecting this.

"Tell me where he is and you'll be paid," he said. He would have thrown all the money he had at her if he thought it would have speeded up her answer but he knew such women were too well versed in trying to get themselves the best deal, if he gave her everything she would only try for more. After several minutes of bartering, Will finally had the name of an inn, without waiting for confirmation of her truthfulness he pushed a bag of coins into the woman's thin hand and was treated to a touchingly genuine smile. Will only wished he had been able to return it.

The inn was within sight when he heard someone call his name. Suddenly Sylvia was in front of him, her eyes searching his face for answers to the questions she had not yet asked. When she hugged him tightly, Will thought he would shatter in her arms.

"Jack's upstairs," said Sylvia taking him gently by the hand. She pulled him through a crowd of new guests, ignoring a barrage of lewd comments that were thrown her way as if she had not heard them. Ordinarily Will would have defended her but everything seemed pointless, strange how hard even the simplest of tasks suddenly seemed. Climbing stairs, for example, his legs felt like they were as heavy as tree trunks. Sylvia's hand tightened around his as they reached the top. She pushed open the nearest door without knocking and there was Jack looking for all the world like he had been waiting for them. Will noticed vaguely that his face was peppered with faded purple and yellow bruises but he could not muster up the interest to ask about them, especially not now he could see the compass, the instrument that would show him what he wanted most…or what he most feared.

"You must have tried it," he said. Jack looked down at the compass uneasily before shooting a quick look at Sylvia. They wanted to hide the truth from him, he wasn't going to let them.

"Give it to me, Jack," he said. One hand had wrapped itself around his sword. The moment before he had been barely able to drag himself up the stairs but if he had to he would take the compass from his friend by force. He couldn't wait any longer, he couldn't stand it.

"Give it to him," said Sylvia quietly. Will did not let go of his sword until Jack held the compass out to him. Then everything went quiet. Even his heart seemed to stop beating. This was it, this was everything. With trembling hands, Will opened the compass.

♠♥♣

Norrington didn't know what he was doing. He had been watching the flow of people one moment and the next he had been on his feet following the footsteps of someone he was sure he recognised. In another life he would have called out, and there would have been an exchange of surprised greetings, slightly wary on both sides but William Turner probably wouldn't recognise him now, in fact, it was a miracle he had recognised Will. The boy had let himself go, it seemed, something Norrington could relate all too well to. He noticed that Will was alone, no Elizabeth, no children. Could that be the reason for the unwashed clothes and the weighted gait? Had she left him for lover number three? Disgusted at his slight thrill of hope, Norrington had attempted to squash this notion. He was not well schooled in love, but if ever there had been a couple in love it was Will and Elizabeth. It was then that a truly terrible thought had struck him. Had something happened to her? He knew he had to find out, and so he had continued to follow Will. He kept at a safe distance which was out of earshot but he guessed that Will was asking where to find something or, more likely, someone. Norrington had already guessed who, but what he wanted, no, needed, to know was why. Why would anyone in their right mind seek out the services of Jack Sparrow?

When Sylvia had come running towards Will, Norrington had hidden quickly and waited until he was sure they had gone inside before revealing himself. He had passed easily through the crowd of recently arrived pirates, all of them jabbering away in a tongue Norrington could not understand. No one had noticed him ascend the stairs. He heard Will's voice almost immediately.

"What does this mean, Jack? Is it broken?" It was he who sounded broken, a man on the edge.

"It's not broken," snapped the unmistakeable timbre of Jack Sparrow.

"We don't know what it means," said a female voice that Norrington recognised as belonging to Sylvia. There was a sudden, almost inhuman cry and then the sound of something shattering. It sounded like Will had thrown something at the wall.

"Commodore?!" Norrington whirled round, almost overbalancing on the thin step, only to find himself face to face with a very shocked looking Gibbs. His hand had not even closed around his sword when he heard a pistol being cocked above him. He raised his eyes slowly to find himself staring down the barrel of Jack's gun.

"Come t' finish the job, have ye?"

"Jack, what…?" Sylvia had joined them. She looked from the gun to Norrington, and then flicked very quickly to the fading bruises on her lover's face. "You?" she breathed disbelievingly. She had not known, Jack hadn't told her, if he had just stayed away from them…but he hadn't, and now he was going to meet his end. Well, he'd be damned before he let Jack make him plead for his life.

"Do it," he said, "I would have killed you." It tasted a lie, he could only hope that Jack believed it. A second pistol was cocked beside him, Gibbs clearly heard it as the truth. Sylvia's shock had settled into resignation.

"I don't care what you do," she said, "Just do it quietly. I don't want Will getting any more upset."

"Don't think that's possible, luv," said Jack without taking his eyes off Norrington.

"What happened to Elizabeth?" Norrington knew he had to ask. He didn't believe for a second that Jack or Gibbs would answer him but Sylvia might and he had to know, even if it was the last thing he heard in this life, but Sylvia acted as if she had not heard him. She turned and simply walked away. Norrington was left facing two guns wielded by two far from happy pirates. He had none of Jack's glib charm, nor his dogged resistance but he still had a fragment of his pride, no one was going to take that from him. He stood tall, waiting.

"What is it that ye want t' be doing with him, Captain?" Gibbs asked uncertainly. Jack's lips parted in a gold flashing grin but before he could answer his first mate, Will appeared beside him, his eyes darker than Norrington ever remembered seeing them.

"You can't kill him, Jack." Jack's lip curled slightly but, to Norrington's very great surprise, he lowered his pistol. In a similarly reluctant way, so did Gibbs.

"Ye better have a damn good reason for that, whelp," Jack muttered darkly.

"I do," said Will, "Elizabeth…" He stumbled on her name. "Elizabeth wouldn't want you to." And with that he retreated. Norrington waited and then spoke into the silence, asking the question his mind kept shouting.

"What happened to Elizabeth?"

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for the thoughts on the last chapter, I appreciate them so much. I've been working very hard on my latest novel recently as well as trying to keep on top of all my uni work, so I can't make any promises as to when the next chapter will be finished but I'll try my best. Let me know what you thought of this chapter:-)


	13. Samaritans

A/N: Woo, here we are with another chapter! I bought DMC on DVD on Monday but only got round to watching it today. Ah, sweet piratical bliss. I've watched a few of the extras too, though I am disappointed at the lack of deleted scenes (though I'm sure this is due to overlap with PotC 3...there must have been lots of scenes which they decided not to put in because they would give too much away).

I hope I haven't kept you guys waiting too long for this...

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Samaritans 

Every morning Janie walked along the beach, even when it was raining like it was this morning. She wrapped a scarf around her head, and pulled one of her husband's coats on, they were similar sizes but Henry always bought clothes that were two sizes too big for him. It was a habit that made Janie laugh, and occasionally get cross, but as she wrapped his coat around her she was glad of it. The hour was not yet six and the street was empty. Janie loved this time of day. Henry loved his mornings in bed, however rare, but not Janie, she liked to smell the fresh air and pretend that she was the first one in the world to do so. She liked to see the colour of the sky and the sea change from moment to moment. This was the hour of the birds, and when she listened to their calls she felt like she was listening to a private conversation. As she walked along the sand she looked back to see her footprints and then she looked up at her house and smiled. It was moments like this that she loved her life, and she thanked God for another morning.

There had been a storm during the night, quite a fierce one. The wind had woken Janie twice. Henry had slept straight through. The beach was littered with evidence of nature's ferocity. Flotsam and jetsam of every description was being picked over by inquisitive seagulls. Janie felt like a seagull herself, rummaging for treasures amongst the rubbish. A leathery mermaid's purse was half buried in the sand. Janie let it lie. She'd once found a necklace amongst a twisted pile of seaweed, it was a beautiful thing, a string of tiny white pearls that looked so delicate that she was sure they would shatter when she picked them up. It was the kind of thing she could imagine royalty owning, certainly not a baker's wife like herself. She had half thought about leaving it where it was in its nest of seaweed, but who was going to claim it if she did not? Only the sea, and what a waste that would have been. She had almost run home with the treasure in her pocket. She had burst into the bakery, too eager to show Henry to wait. He had laughed at her excitement and then once she had shown him he had made a great show of admiring the string of pearly beads.

"We could sell it," she remembered saying, though her grip had tightened on them as she spoke.

"Sell it?" Henry had said, "No, we couldn't do that." He had fastened the necklace round her neck and kissed her on the cheek. Janie still remembered that as one of the most beautiful moments of her life. She did not imagine that she would find another treasure like that necklace, which was currently lying in a homemade velvet bag in the bottom of a drawer in the bedroom, but she kept her eyes open just in case. The beach was a long one, a vast stretch of grey on a morning such as this. Janie stopped walking and looked along it appreciating the vastness of the world. That was when she saw it, a black shape that was somehow different from the lumps of driftwood that surrounded it. Janie began to walk towards it, then she began to run, the damp sand sucking at her feet, because she was sure that this was no piece of driftwood…she was looking at a body.

♠♥♣

"Who is Tia Dalma?" Sylvia asked looking from Jack to Will. Her name had been mentioned and the atmosphere had changed completely. Norrington, sitting in the corner, had not said a word, which was definitely wise.

"You want t' see Tia?" Jack asked hollowly, "Why?"

"Because she knew," said Will passionately, "She knew this would happen. Don't you remember?"

"She may have said something…"

"Jack, who's…?"

"She knew, Jack. She might know something else. Anything else. I'm not giving up." Will looked like he was ready to collapse, he was so tense.

"If you hadn't broken me compass…"

"The bloody thing doesn't work!" roared Will, "I did you a favour!"

"Enough!" Sylvia stood up and physically put herself between Jack and Will. "This isn't helping anyone." Will raised one shaky hand to his face and wiped his eyes. He was losing it, and despite his talk he was losing hope.

"Who is this Tia Dalma, Jack?" Jack, to her displeasure, looked immensely uncomfortable. Norrington's eyebrows rose several centimetres.

"She's an old friend…an acquaintance, tha's all. Some say she's got a gift, of sorts."

"A gift?" Sylvia wasn't at all sure she liked the sound of that.

"She's psychic," said Will, "She knew that leaving Elizabeth was a mistake, she knew they would be taken from me…she said…she said I might lose one of them." He covered his face with his hands, Sylvia looked away to try and preserve some semblance of privacy.

"Jack," she said quietly, "If it'll help Will…"

"Sylvia, ye don' understand what yer asking."

"Maybe not, but it's what Will wants. We owe him that, at least." Jack sighed.

"Alright," he said heavily, "We'll go and see her, but do we have to bring him?" Jack jerked his head in the direction of Norrington.

"Yes," said Will. And that was the end of the discussion.

♠♥♣

Norrington did not understand why Will had saved his life or why he had insisted that he accompany him on this trip to see the psychic, but he was prepared to do his bit to save Elizabeth, if only someone would tell him what had actually happened to her. Jack had gone to rally the crew and ready the Pearl. Will had, mercifully, fallen asleep and Sylvia had given them all strict orders not to disturb him. She was getting things ready too, packing. Only Norrington was sitting with nothing to do. The door was open to Sylvia's room but Norrington knocked anyway. She turned, with a radiant smile forming, but when she saw Norrington it was gone at once.

"What do you want?" she asked. She wasn't short with him, but there was no friendliness, he had not been expecting any.

"I want to know if I can help," said Norrington.

"Well, Jack's the one who could probably need some help but I don't think that's a very good idea," she said going back to folding shirts, "Jack won't be forgiving you for a while."

"No," said Norrington, "I…I won't say I'm sorry, but I do want you to know…"

"You don't need to explain yourself," said Sylvia, "I've been around Jack long enough to know he makes more enemies than friends." She gifted him with a small smile before going back to her packing. "Were you going to kill him?"

"I don't know. I was angry."

"I can imagine," said Sylvia, "I'd be angry too. I won't let you hurt him again, Commodore."

"Call me James."

♠♥♣

Henry walked home from his bakery, there was flour on his hands and in his hair and on his tongue but there was a smile on his face as he turned the corner and saw the house he shared with his wife. They had never been blessed with children, something Janie felt particularly keenly, but in every other respect they were happy. They were as different as could be but somehow it worked, and they were happy. He opened the front door and waited for Janie's happy smile to greet him. Seconds passed and there were no smiles, there was no greeting.

"Janie? Janie, where are you?" A floorboard creaked above him. Henry found himself taking the stairs two at a time, his knees complaining at this unexpectedly harsh treatment.

"Janie?"

"Ssh!" Janie appeared from their bedroom, she shut the door behind her.

"What's going on?" Henry asked, "Is someone in our bedroom?" He was joking, of course. Janie, to his surprise and horror, began to blush.

"Please don't be cross, Henry," she said, "I couldn't leave her, not even to come and tell you."

"Her? Janie, what are you talking about?"

"Ssh," Janie said again shooting a look at the closed door behind her, "I was walking along the beach this morning when I found her, washed up on shore! I didn't know what to do, there was no one around and she didn't seem to be breathing. I managed to roll her onto her back and she began coughing…really coughing, like her lungs were going to burst. I tried to call for help but like I said there was no one around. Finally she comes round enough for me to help her to her feet and we just about made it back here. I had her downstairs all morning, shivering and pale as death she was, I managed to get her up here sometime this afternoon, I thought she could do with a proper bed. You've never seen someone so pale, Henry, and she hasn't spoken a single word. I didn't know what to do for the best but I couldn't very well have left her there, could I?" Janie was looking at him for confirmation but Henry wasn't sure he had followed the story correctly.

"You found a woman unconscious on the beach?" he said in an attempt to clarify the situation in his own mind, "And without knowing who she is or where she came from you brought her into our house and stayed with her all day…alone."

"What was I to do?" Janie asked, "Besides, you should see her. She couldn't threaten a tit mouse in her state. She's got a nasty cut on her head. I was going to get the doctor but I didn't want to leave her...I was hoping you'd…"

"Fine," grumbled Henry, "I'll get the doctor while my dinner goes cold…"

"Oh," said Janie blushing a little more, "I'm afraid with all that happened today I didn't get round to making any dinner. I was hoping leftovers would be alright." Henry thought he had better fetch the doctor before the bitter disappointment made him cry.

♠♥♣

All land had disappeared some time ago, and that usually meant Jack would come down from the helm, but Sylvia had been waiting almost an hour and still she was alone in the cabin. She kept telling herself she was being stupid but she could not shake the feeling that Jack was avoiding her. Instead of getting angry or upset, which were the two things that came to her most naturally in situations such as this, she decided to think about why this might be. Sitting down on the bed she ran over the mornings events. Will's arrival, Norrington's appearance, the strange request by Will to visit this Tia Dalma…that was it! Something about where they were going was making Jack uneasy, especially when it came to talking about it with the one person to whom he owed an explanation. Typical Jack. Sylvia stood up. If she couldn't get the answers from Jack himself, she would do the next best thing.

It took her next to no time to find Gibbs who was in his element, ordering the crew around and taking periodic swigs from his hip flask. His face broke into a dogged grin upon seeing her.

"A fine day fer sailing," he pronounced, filling his lungs with salty air, "A pirate's life, eh?" He certainly was in a good mood, he was always the same on the first day of a voyage, that first stretch of his sea legs seemed particularly sweet even after the shortest of stops.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," Sylvia said keeping her voice casual so as not to arouse suspicion.

"O' course," said Gibbs, sounding flattered, "What's on yer mind?"

"Er…well, I wondered if you could tell me about this Tia Dalma we're visiting." Gibbs' smile faded a little.

"Has Jack…? No, I don't suppose he has." He took a long draft from his flask. "Tia Dalma 'n Jack go way back."

"Is she a pirate?" Sylvia asked, she was beginning to get the message already.

"Oh no, she's no pirate, lass. Got gypsy blood in her veins, true enough, but she's not one t' take t' the sea 'less she has to. That's what got them in the end."

"Them?" Sylvia prompted. There was a strange burning sensation in her chest, and her mouth had suddenly gone very dry. Gibbs was beginning to look very uncomfortable but he knew he could not escape now.

"They've been over fer a long time now, lass. Jack makes a point of avoidin' her, as a matter of fact. He went t' see her fer help with Davy Jones but…"

"He went to see her while I was on the Dutchman?" Sylvia felt like someone had slapped her hard.

"Fer help, tha's all," insisted Gibbs, "She's somewhat associated with Jones." Strangely this bit of news was nowhere near as momentous to Sylvia as hearing that Jack had fled to the arms of another woman when she was in mortal peril, at least that's the scenario that had set itself up inside her mind and nothing Gibbs said was going to shift it. No wonder Jack had been reluctant to talk to her. Sylvia had experienced jealousy before, but never like this, she could feel herself rapidly losing a sense of proportion.

"Sylvia?" Gibbs was looking worried. "Sylvia, yer lookin' ill. I'm telling you, Jack's heart mended a long time ago…long before he met you! Tia Dalma's a useful acquaintance, that be all."

"Are you sure?" Sylvia asked, her eyes on the floor.

"Aye." Gibbs pulled her into a one armed hug. "Now, I think someone better check on Will."

"I'll go," said Sylvia, "Thank you, Gibbs." As she walked away she could still feel the burning inside her, but it was not as strong as it had been. At least she knew the truth. Maybe now she could talk to Jack about it.

♠♥♣

Janie stood by the door as the doctor carefully examined the poor girl. Worryingly, she did not react to being moved, poked and prodded. Even Henry, who really was fond of his daily routine, looked very concerned as the doctor continued to frown and mutter to himself in a way that Janie found most unnerving. She remembered the doctor doing the same thing to her after she had miscarried for the fourth time, back when he was new to the town, she had thought that it was the grief and shock that had made him seem unfeeling but Janie could see now that he really was that bleak. Finally, he placed the blanket back over the woman and turned to face them. Janie took half a step forwards, her hands clenched together at her chest.

"It doesn't look good," said Doctor Blake, "Her colour is very unhealthy, very unhealthy indeed, and her temperature is worse. Dear, dear…"

"But will she be alright?" said Henry, "Is there anything we can do?" Doctor Blake sniffed. He did not appreciate being interrupted.

"She needs a regular intake of broth, little and often. She must be kept warm, I recommend you start a fire in here which is to be kept going day and night. If she regains consciousness she will have little strength. You will have to encourage her to take eat more solid food and take short, assisted walks." He took one last look at the patient. "You have an uphill battle ahead of you, God be with you." God be with her, Janie corrected in her head before showing the doctor to the door. Henry paid him with his hard earned coins and he was soon on his way.

"I wish Doctor Leeson had not moved away," sighed Janie as she closed the door, "His advice was always so personal."

"We shan't be paying him again," said Henry irritably, "We'll find another doctor if she needs it." Janie blinked.

"So she can stay?" she said.

"Well, of course she can stay," blustered Henry, his ears growing red, "I'm not going to be known as the man who threw a young lady out on the street because he didn't get his dinner!" Janie laughed and threw her arms around her dear husband's neck. She kissed him, tasting flour.

"God chose us for this," she said seriously. Henry nodded.

"I believe He did," he said sombrely, "So we had better do the best job we can."

"As always," added Janie.

"Alright," said Henry rolling up his sleeves, "You get started on that broth and I'll see what I can do about getting a fire going."

♠♥♣

By the light of a roaring fire, Henry took his first good look at his house guest. Even illness could not hide her beauty. He was not one to guess at a lady's age but he would have put her far before thirty if he'd been pushed. A mere girl, in his eyes. If Janie had carried her first pregnancy to term that baby girl would have been about the same age. He wiped his eyes and scolded himself for being an old fool, but he knew Janie felt the same thing. Every night for over twenty years she had prayed for a child, and here they were, playing host to a waif washed up on their very shore. He didn't know if he believed that this was God's will, but he was certainly willing to go along with it for Janie's sake. In any case, it was their Christian duty to care for the girl until such time as she could be reunited with her rightful family. Henry was about to leave the sleeper in peace when her eyelids stirred and her lips parted. She murmured a word but Henry did not catch it. Hurriedly, he knelt down beside the bed. He wanted to talk to her, to tell her she was alright but the words got stuck in his throat. Janie was better at this kind of thing. He got to his feet again and rushed from the room but by the time his wife reached the stranger's bedside she was silent and still once more.

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A/N: Thank you, as always, for your wonderful comments. I have finally formulated a plan for the rest of the story and, at the present moment, I am planning to write four more chapters. Not sure whether you'll consider this good or bad news but I thought I would let you know! Looking forward to hearing from you...


	14. Tia Dalma Again

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! I arrived home this afternoon and the decorations and mince pies have delivered the Christmas spirit that I had been missing up until now. An addition to my Christmas joy was finally finishing this chapter after many interupptions and various deadlines getting in the way. I had hoped to update again before Christmas but I really don't see that being a possibility any more so consider this my Christmas gift to all of you! I hope you enjoy it...

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Chapter Fourteen: Tia Dalma Again

Tia Dalma listened to the wind with interest. So few people stopped to listen to its whispered voice, and even fewer were able to decipher the mysterious tongue of Mother Nature. She closed her eyes to better hear, but opened them again on hearing Jack Sparrow's name. Surely not. So he had escaped the clutches of Davy Jones, that did not surprise her, the surprise came from the knowledge that he was on his way to see her again. She listened again but the wind never repeats itself and it never lies. Tia ran a hand down her yellow python who was tasting his own messages on the ever moving air.

"Jack Sparrow." Tia spoke the name aloud, savouring its flavours as she had done so many times in the past. "What is it ye want?"

♠♥♣

Norrington leaned heavily on his mop. There was a thin film of sweat on his brow which he was loathe to wipe off. For the first time in months it was hard work making him sweat rather than alcohol or night time terror. Tortuga already seemed a lifetime ago, an episode he would rather bury and forget. His mind, clearer and freer that it had been in many a long month, was nevertheless burdened by the sorry events that had led him to this point. Elizabeth….dead. It was not possible. It could not be. She had broken his heart, that much was true, but in the clear light of day he found he did not blame her for it nor did he hold her inevitable abandonment against her. She, at least, had the courage to be honest and to love honestly, there were few he had ever met who could make such a claim. For all the grime and depression of Tortuga, it had at least given him one thing, the certain knowledge that he no longer loved Elizabeth. He cared for her, above all others, but he did not love her. Festering in that dank hell hole such a truth had been small consolation but here, standing on the deck of the Black Pearl, with the fresh wind blowing in his face, Norrington realised what it truly meant. He was free. And yet he wasn't. He would only truly be free when Elizabeth was found safe and returned to the waiting arms of the one that she loved, even if that could never be him.

Taking orders from Jack was taking some getting used to, however. Despite everything that had happened it still pained him to know that he this new lease of life to Jack Sparrow, a debt that settled itself on top of the one he had saddled himself with when he knocked the pirate for six. The whole thing was made more bearable by the presence of Sylvia who was the only one with a smile and a kind word for him. The rest of Jack's crew turned their backs when he approached them, and when he walked passed he heard them spit on the ground. Norrington noticed that Sylvia did nothing to stop this but neither did she encourage it, the stark opposite of the Captain's policy.

"Good morning, James," said Sylvia with a small smile. She looked tired but there was a glow about her that had been missing when he had seen her in Tortuga.

"Good morning," he returned recognising the self he had once been in his voice. Sylvia squinted out to sea, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Jack says we should be there sometime this afternoon," she said quietly. Norrington had been able to detect her uncertainty about this venture right from the moment Jack had suggested it, she was trying to hide it now but it was written on her face for anyone to see if they cared to look.

"What do you know of this Tia Dalma?" he asked casually. Sylvia turned to look at him, her eyes burning into him uncomfortably.

"I trust Jack," she said quietly, defiantly, "She will help us." As she walked away Norrington sighed and resumed his duties hoping that the next time Sylvia appeared he would be able to avoid isolating the one person who had a spare word for him.

♠♥♣

Jack winced as he pulled his shirt on. He eyed the rum bottle on the table. It was amazing how much less his bruises hurt when there were two or three empty bottles rolling with the swell on the cabin floor but Sylvia wanted him sober, and Tia was never impressed by drunken customers. Customer. He rolled the word around in his mouth. He had never thought of himself as a customer where Tia was concerned. They had had something special, something almost supernatural. It had been doomed from the start, of course, but in a way that was what made it so memorable. The fact it could never have been was addicting. Sailing towards her felt wrong, but at the same time it felt so right it was almost painful. When Sylvia appeared on the doorway Jack had to turn away so she wouldn't see the guilty expression on his face.

"Not even dressed," she admonished, "It's a good thing your crew aren't as lazy as you, Captain Sparrow." Jack turned back to her, grin in place.

"I have them well trained," he said with a cheeky wink. Sylvia rolled her eyes but he could see her secret smile. Within seconds they were kissing and Jack forgot about Tia. When Sylvia was with him, how could he have a thought for anyone else? Sylvia pulled away, much to Jack's bitter disappointment.

"Not now," she said softly, "I can't…not when Elizabeth…" She didn't need to finish. Jack kissed her forehead and she clung to him. Neither of them spoke. Their concern and their hope ran deeper than words. The Pearl could not move fast enough. Every minute was precious, and they tried not to think about why.

♠♥♣

This was dying, Will thought. Worse than dying. He had been lying still for an indeterminable amount of time, unable to do anything useful his body had shut down. Even his thoughts had collapsed in on himself. There was only a hollow where his heart should have been. If they were dead… He hadn't the strength to fight the worst away. If they were dead it was his fault and no one was going to try and convince him otherwise. If he hadn't been so foolish… If he hadn't been so rash… If he hadn't broken his promise… If he had only looked back… This was dying. This was hell itself. This was death.

♠♥♣

Tia closed her eyes and saw The Pearl drawing closer. A smile twitched her dark lips as she got her first glimpse of its inimitable Captain. The smile faltered as a figure drew up beside him, a smart looking thing compared to the rest of them, not a pirate, not a woman of the sea. She knew who she was, of course, she could feel the connection between them, stronger now that they were together. Her eyes shot open the moment she realised that it was stronger than she had previously realised, stronger than… She turned and took a handful of unimpressive looking dirt from a glass jar. She threw it into the air. It fell and spread out on the floor joining remnants of shells and the odd live hermit crab. The sand was the Earth, and the Earth never lied. Their bond was stronger. And that hurt. Suddenly Tia was not so keen on the arrival of her guests.

♠♥♣

It was a tense group that sat in the Pearl's longboat. Jack was staring fixedly at Norrington who was rowing, and Norrington was doing his best to ignore him. Will was huddled into himself, looking haunted. And Sylvia felt peculiarly like she was all alone. They were heading towards a thick jungle, the likes of which Sylvia had never seen so close before. Jack had given her very little information on what to expect, indeed he had barely talked to her. Sylvia knew she should not give this more attention that it deserved, she knew that worry was probably driving everything else out of Jack's mind, but there was still a tiny nagging part of her that was sure that there was something else. Could Jack be in love with someone else? This feeling grew as they made their slow progress up river under the strong sun and Sylvia could find nothing to distract herself from it. No one spoke, no one moved except for those that were rowing, their arms moving in perfect synchrony. Sylvia became mesmerised by the constant motion until her eyes slid out of focus leaving her in a semi-conscious dream state. She was halfway to sleep when a lightening bolt of memory struck her so hard she cried out loud.

"Sylvia?" Blood. A river of blood. So much pain.

"Sylvia? Luv?" The heels of her hands were pressed hard into her eyes in an attempt to black out the images. The light was blinding when Jack pulled her hands away. Everyone was staring at her with varying degrees of alarm. Even Will had been roused from his torment, his dark eyes fixed on her. Sylvia wished they would disappear.

"Sylvia?" She forced herself to look at Jack. "What happened, luv? Are you alright?" She managed a small nod.

"Yes…I just…" What had happened to her? She felt like she had been plunged into her own head, like a dream, only worse.

"We're nearly there," said Jack, his hands not releasing hers, "We'll be out of the sun soon." Sylvia said nothing. The sun had nothing to do with this, she knew that, but she let Jack put his arm around her and leaned against him as they passed into shadow.

♠♥♣

The huts, rising out of the unnatural murk and mist, took on a hostile quality that Will had not noticed when he had come here the first time. They were making such slow progress that he was sorely tempted to push Gibbs aside and pull on the oar himself. Didn't the others understand that time was short? Sylvia's turn had unnerved them all, even Jack who looked distinctly uncomfortable. This was not his territory, none of them belonged here. Will didn't care. He was coming here for information, that was all. Tia Dalma had spooked him last time, and he had doubted her, there was no doubt now. She would give him what Jack's compass could not. She would give him what he most needed.

"We're here," said Jack.

♠♥♣

Tia did not reveal herself until she was sure they were all present. Now they were close she could feel a plethora of emotion, but the most powerful was coming from the boy, William. So she had been right. The girl, Sylvia, was hanging back, fearfully. Her eyes were darting around the hut, as if searching for an escape route. She brought someone else in with her, the faint ghost of someone very familiar, someone Tia had not seen in a lifetime. Then there was Jack, looking uncharactistically nervous, more nervous in fact than he had done last time, which was perhaps surprising considering it was not his life in the balance this time, but Tia knew Jack and she was not surprised. Gibbs she knew but did not concern herself with. The last man, however, was most interesting. He was visibly detached from the group, a stranger amongst friends. So why was he here? What was his purpose in all of this? He had a part to play, of that she was certain.

Tia shivered in her secluded solitude, and then stepped forwards through the beaded curtain that separated her world from everyone else's. She did not bother with greetings or introductions, though there was time enough.

"I would like t' speak t' Miss Sylvia." Jack, who had moved forward, no doubt to try to ingratiate himself looked like he had just swallowed something unpleasant but it was not him who voiced his displeasure with this suggestion first.

"Where are Elizabeth, Tom and Laura?" Will asked. His hands were shaking. The boy had not slept or eaten in days. Hadn't anyone thought to look after him? Sylvia moved towards him but he shrugged her off, his dark eyes fixed on Tia.

"Where are they?" he asked again. The boy was like a wild animal backed into a corner but Tia wasn't scared, she'd seen worse.

"Miss Sylvia," she repeated, "I'll see 'er first." She parted the beads with one hand and stretched out the other towards Sylvia who was wide eyed and looking much younger than her years. Tia could see the direction of her thoughts. She reached out to Jack first, wanting him to provide an answer. The men in her life had always provided her bearing, dictating the path she would take and she had taken it unquestioningly. When Jack did not say anything, most probably because he had nothing to say, Sylvia seemed to decide that she had better do what the crazy woman asked, though she was clearly reluctant. Tia smiled.

"Don' worry," she said, "I don' bite." Jack snorted then lapsed into a recovery coughing fit to avoid the sharp look from Sylvia. Tia's smile widened, and Sylvia stepped through to the next room.

♠♥♣

The room was much like the one the others were standing in except nothing hung from the ceiling. Instead, jars were stacked in neat rows on shelves, their contents murky and indistinct. There was a narrow bed down one wall but it did not look like it had ever been slept in. Sylvia wondered why someone would ever keep a bed made for appearances sake. Tia Dalma was watching her with those strangely lit eyes, her blackened teeth bared in a grin. Sylvia felt like she was on show, and she wanted it to stop.

"Why do you want to talk to me? Is it because of Jack?" Tia's grin widened.

"Jealousy," she said silkily, "Such a terrible thing." Heat rose in Sylvia's face. How dare this gypsy suppose she would ever, could ever be jealous of her? Tia's grin returned to a smile.

"Yer like yer father when yer angry," she said.

"Yes," said Sylvia too shocked to lie, "How did you…?"

"No matter how," said Tia and suddenly she looked serious, "None have seen what you have seen an' lived. He has spared no one but he spared you." Sylvia wanted to sit down. She was feeling breathless; the air in the room was so thick it wasn't going down her throat.

"How do you…" Tia waved a thin hand dismissively.

"I know," she said, "That is all. I know ye tried t' talk to Jack. I know he tried t' listen, but sometimes the ears only hear what they want t' hear. And I know you didn' tell him everything." Tia's eyes flicked very quickly to Sylvia's stomach. Sylvia blinked once then burst into tears.

"Sit down," Tia instructed gently. Sylvia sat on the bed and Tia let her cry. She had shed many tears, she had an ocean inside of her that was constantly being replenished. Each tear contained a tiny piece of broken heart, broken not by love or by vision but by the truth, something Captain Davy Jones was very good at delivering with arrow like accuracy. But this was not a mortal wound. Davy Jones had missed.

"I know what 'e told you," Tia said. Sylvia looked up, her face distorted with grief. He hadn't really told her, he hadn't spoken the words. She had convinced herself that the feeling she had been nursing since returning from the Dutchman was just that, a feeling, a figment of an overactive imagination, but now…

"Is it true?" she asked in a choked whisper, "Is it really true?" Tia said nothing, Sylvia already knew the answer. She had known even before she had set foot on the Flying Dutchman and Jones had certainly known the first time he looked at her. Her greatest weakness, the chink in her armour, just waiting to be exploited by someone who had lost their own. Of course Jack had not understood, what man could? Sylvia's body would never grow with life, her heart would never beat in perfect synchrony with her own creation. How can you describe the numbing, eternal emptiness of being a mother without a child to a man whose life revolved around the sea?

"It's stupid," said Sylvia as she wiped her eyes harshly with the back of her hand, "I don't know what we'd do with a child anyway, it would only get in the way." The words were deliberately hardened. The armour was already being laid down anew. Better that way. The poison was out now, perhaps the wound could heal. She was beginning to feel embarrassed now, Tia could tell.

"You will need t' split," she said changing the subject back to the one they had come for, her work with Sylvia was done, "Mrs Turner needs her husband, an' he better make haste. The children can wait longer but too long and they will be lost too, they will pass beyond my reach and you will never find them." Sylvia was staring at her, half amazed, half terrified.

"W-where are they? Are they alive? Are they hurt?" Tia shook her head.

"I cannot see them as well as I could, they were alive a day or so ago, but now, who can tell? Make haste, already ye have wasted much time that will never be returned to you." She pressed something round and cold into Sylvia's hand before standing up.

"Go," she said, "One east, one west…before it's too late."

* * *

A/N: Much to my delight, I had a lot of new reviewers for the last chapter. Thank you both to newcomers and to those who continue to follow this story. Thank you all for being so patient with me, I can only reiterate my promise that I will not be abandoning this story (it's so upsetting when authors do that!). And to those who celebrate Christmas, I hope you have a wonderful holiday!


	15. Rescue, Part I

Chapter Fifteen: Rescue, Part I

Jack, Sylvia and the Pearl were heading east. Tia Dalma had given them nothing more to go on, only the promise that if they hurried they would find what was sought. Sylvia, who was still shaken from her encounter with the gypsy, threw herself into work refusing to let her mind dwell too long on the truth that made her heart turn to stone. Jack didn't seem to notice. Being given a direction seemed to have brought home to him what they were doing. Sylvia knew that his affection for Elizabeth was surpassed by his fierce love for her two children. This did make sense, Elizabeth, providing she was well, could defend and take care of herself, but little Laura and Tom…it didn't bear thinking about. Just as Sylvia was trying to keep her mind busy, so was Jack, his Captain role much more vocal and involved than usual.

"So where are we headed?" Sylvia asked as she walked into the cabin to find Jack pawing over a map. He shushed her with a strange little burring noise and continued to walk his fingers elegantly over the detailed drawing. Finally he came to a stop, one blackened finger resting on a tiny island. He looked up at Sylvia and she could see already that the news was not good.

"What? What's there?" she asked. Jack frowned and ran his tongue over his teeth.

"Somethin' deeply unpleasant," he replied with evident distaste.

"But what?" Sylvia asked, "What is it?" Jack sighed or shivered, Sylvia could not quite tell.

"A slave market," he replied, "Fer children." Sylvia's blood ran cold.

"Laura? Tom?" Her heart felt like it was straining against her ribs. She had heard of such markets. Children snatched from their homes or sold by families too poor to have a choice. Children who were raised as slaves for rich masters, moulded into the style desired by the ones with the gold. The thought of Elizabeth and Will's precious children being treated in such a way was beyond comprehension. What they must have gone through already…

"Oh Jack, what if we don't get there in time?" Jack's hands had formed tight fists and there was a darkness in his eyes that Sylvia had seen before.

"We will, luv," he said, eyes boring into the map before him, "We will."

♠♥♣

It is a frightening thing when something you had taken as an absolute certainty turns out not to be true at all. Thomas Turner would have said he knew what it was like to be cold, but he had never felt anything like this before. He had been shivering for so long that every muscle ached like he had been beaten. His fingers had turned from white to blue. The cut on his cheek felt like it had frozen solid, causing the skin across his face to tighten, but it would take more than that to make him relinquish his hold on his baby sister. Laura had not moved for at least an hour. Her skin had turned almost see through. Tom could see blue and red lines criss crossing on her forehead. He held her as close to his body as he could, the way his mother did when they were out in the wind or the rain. But they would always go inside if it got too bad and sit by the fire wrapped in blankets while his father made them laugh by challenging the coat stand to a duel. It hurt him to remember these things, almost as if they weren't real, as if he had made them up and was only just coming to realise his mistake. He could not really remember what had happened. Sometimes, when he slept, images came floating to him across a sea of discomfort. He remembered the boat and for a moment he was excited at the prospect of sailing to England again. There were times when the smell of smoke overwhelmed him and he woke with a start clutching onto Laura so tight her face would crumble and she would start to cry. But after the fire, everything was blurred. There had been a boat and a storm but the details were always just out of reach. Tom did not remember being separated from his mother, he didn't remember how he got to be here or even where here was. Most of the time he was too tired and too cold to even think of questions, and he was certainly too tired to cry, even Laura did not cry any more, she just slept for hours on end until Tom woke up just to know that she could wake only to watch her doze off again a few minutes later.

He must have fallen asleep for the next thing he knew he was being woken by a loud voice speaking a language Tom did not understand. He recognised the voice though and pressed himself and Laura further into the corner of their cage. The bars pressed against his back but he didn't care. He wasn't going to let anyone touch his sister without a fight. The voice moved away however and gradually Tom allowed his muscles to relax. As he did so he became aware of a multitude of tiny rustles all around him. He did not like to look at his surroundings, the sight made his head hurt and his eyes sting. For as far as the eye could see were cages, row upon row of them, some of them grouped crudely together, others further apart. Most of them had occupants, big eyed, sickly looking occupants just like himself. Moving between the cages were a handful of adults, fierce looking men with black beards and swords that glinted at their sides. Tom did not make eye contact with them but he watched their boots as carefully as one might watch a poisonous spider's progress across the floor. One of those men was in charge of the group of cages Tom was in, one of those men had struck him across the face just for refusing to be separated from Laura. Tom had never been hit before. He had fallen over plenty of times, grazed his knees, skinned his palms, banged his head; and he had been kissed better by both his mother and his father, their healing hands working more magic than any bandage. Tom had heard his parents whispering together about someone who they had seen hitting their children for playing up at a party, they had both been appalled, now Tom knew why. Laura stirred in the cradle of his arms but did not open her eyes. Tom rested his chin on her soft, downy head and tried to sleep. His dad would come soon, armed with a sword so sharp the bearded men would fall over in their fear. His father would rescue them and carry them away and soon he would be sleeping in his mother's arms, safe and warm, safe and warm, safe and warm…

♠♥♣

"I don' like the look o' this venture," said Gibbs as the Pearl sailed into the port where a dozen rough looking ships were already bobbing on the unnaturally calm sea. Jack did not bother to reply. If he walked away from every venture Gibbs had ever expressed a dislike to they would never get anything done, and this wasn't a matter of mere profit, this was Tom and Laura. He would sail to hell and back before he let anything happen to those children, and Gibbs well knew it.

"What d' ye say, Captain? Are we all to go ashore?" Jack considered this a moment. On the one hand there was safety in numbers, on the other they would look a mite threatening if they all disembarked at once. Best to play it by ear.

"I'll go," he said grimly, "Yer welcome to join me." Gibbs swallowed a large mouthful of rum accidentally. Jack saw tears spring to his eyes as the liquid burnt his throat.

"Aye, Captain," he spluttered.

"What about me?" Both men turned round. Sylvia was facing them, one hand on her hip. She looked almost as fearsome as the port they were entering. Jack knew at once that 'you'll be staying on the ship' was not going to cut any ice.

"Yer coming too," he said as if that had been implied.

"You're damn right I am," Sylvia said and she joined him at his side. Jack noticed that there was a dagger slipped into her belt. She wasn't just passionate, she was practical.

♠♥♣

The coughing woke Tom. There were tears in his eyes. He blinked rapidly until they disappeared. He didn't want Laura to wake up to see him crying, though he did want her to wake up. He shook her very gently. Her lips moved but her eyes remained closed. Her scrunched up fists were white. Tom rubbed them between his hands but he must have hurt her a little because she began to whimper. After a minute of this, the whimpering turned to full blown crying. The sound rose through the air, through the bars of their cage into the freezing air. Tom knew that if she attracted attention they would both be in trouble.

"What is this?" _Uh oh_. "What is this noise coming from this animal? I told you to keep her quiet." A dark skinned man with a long black beard and a gold earring leaned over them, his shadow plunging them into darkness.

"She'll be quiet," said Tom, "In a minute, she'll be quiet."

"I can't wait a minute, little animal. I can't wait a second." Tom was jiggling Laura in his arms, bouncing her in the hope that she would fall silent before something bad happened. _Please be quiet_, he begged, _Please Laura, please!_

"That's it!" The man's arm was reaching in; his fingers were inches from Tom's hair when another sudden burst of coughing distracted him. The coughing came from the cage next door to them. A stream of words escaped the bearded man, Tom did not understand them but he knew they were bad words, very bad words. Miraculously Laura quietened as the bearded man moved to his new victim. The coughing was replaced by a sharp yelp and then all was quiet once more.

"Mummy?" Laura's voice was barely a whisper.

"She's coming," Tom said holding her close, "She's definitely coming." The doubts sprang into his mind immediately but he just hugged his little sister and kissed her forehead. They had to be coming…they just had to be.

♠♥♣

The dock was dirty and unkempt. The ships alongside the Pearl were in much the same state. Sylvia wished she had asked more questions before they had disembarked, it was too late now. Gibbs had stayed behind, the new plan being that she and Jack would go forth as a couple looking for a child to adopt rather than to use as a servant. This was not unheard of apparently, though it would mark them out as different from the usual clientele. But being a woman already marked Sylvia out. She knew this was going to be hard. Pretending she wanted a child was not going to be the challenge, she was going to have to make sure she did not let her want show too much. It was Tom and Laura they were there for, her own longing could be addressed later when the situation was less desperate.

"Are you sure yer ready for this?" Jack asked her in a low voice. In front of them was a cave mouth that was guarded by two heavily armed men.

"Do we have to go in there?" Sylvia whispered. She didn't really need Jack to answer. She was hoping, perhaps, that they would make a sharp turning and knock on the door of one of the less frightening looking buildings but that was not to be. Jack moved to be in front of her as they got closer, and the armed men moved to block the entrance they were employed to protect. Both of them were dark skinned and thick bodied with black hair scraped back tightly into high ponytails, as a result their eyes were drawn into fearsome slants. As Jack and Sylvia drew closer, one of the men took a step forwards and barked something in a language Sylvia did not understand. Life at sea had brought her into contact with people she would never have met if she had lived a life of high society as her mother had wished. She had heard more languages spoken than she knew existed but this new language made a shiver travel down her spine. If a wolf could talk, she imagined it would sound much the same. Jack touched his hat, his favoured greeting. The fierce looking man repeated his bark like request. Sylvia could tell that he was asking for something, she could only hope that Jack knew what it was.

"The password, aye," said Jack, "I did know it once…"

"Password?" Sylvia whispered. Jack had not mentioned anything about a password back on the ship. Jack ignored her and Sylvia fell silent. Often, when it seemed to the rest of the world as if Captain Jack Sparrow was at a loss for words or stuck in a dead end, Sylvia knew he was actually planning his next move. The cloak of stupidity was a good one, very few people questioned it.

"Ah!" he said with a dramatic grin, "The password is…" Sylvia did not catch the word itself for it belonged to the barking language but it seemed to satisfy the guards. They kept a firm hold of their large sabre like swords but stepped back to allow both Jack and Sylvia to pass. Sylvia felt their eyes on her and stuck close to Jack, her own hand firmly placed on her dagger. She may not have been a pirate herself but she knew enough to be careful in their presence.

"We've come on an off day," Jack said, he sounded more relaxed than he had before.

"An off day?" Sylvia asked needing clarification.

"Not a market day," said Jack, "The place'll be empty." He checked his pistol. "Keep yer eyes open, luv, and don't lose yer head." Sylvia was about to protest at this last piece of advice when Jack stepped through a second narrow entranceway. Sylvia followed and almost immediately all the breath left her body. They had emerged into an enormous, dimly lit hall. The air was cold, colder than it had been outside. Stretched in rows were low, square shapes. Cages. The sound of coughing vibrated through the air punctuated by sharp reprimands and, occasionally, yelps of fear and pain.

"Oh my god…" Sylvia could not believe what her eyes were seeing. This was a real nightmare. How could places like this exist?

"What are you doing here?" A thickly accented voice made her jump. Jack span smoothly on the balls of his feet to face the person moving swiftly, and none too happily, towards them.

"What are you doing here?" the man repeated, black eyes flashing, "This is no sale day. You come back tomorrow, maybe make sale then."

"I don' think so," said Jack, his own eyes narrowing dangerously, "I think ye'll be givin' us what we want."

"Oh yes? And why is that?" He looked Jack up and down. "We no deal with pirates."

"I think you might make an exception this time," said Sylvia stepping forward. She pulled from her pocket the jewel Tia had made her take before leaving her hut. She had not said what it was for but Sylvia was sure she knew now. Even in the dim light of the cave the green stone winked and glimmered in a way that was almost supernatural. The effect was immediate.

"Ah, this is good, this is good," said the man, licking his lips greedily, "Not a problem for good sir, gentle lady. My name is Mahmed, I am the surest that I can find you what you seek." And with that, he beckoned them forwards, his eyes never leaving the jewel in Sylvia's hand.

♠♥♣

Row after row of cages, some of them stacked two high, made a network of misery and suffering the likes of which Jack had never seen before, and he'd seen some pretty god awful hell holes in his time. Children, no older than twelve, were curled under rags, some of them crying, some of them coughing, all of them shivering. Sylvia kept stopping as the children caught her eye. Jack kept one hand firmly on the small of her back to guide her onwards. They couldn't save them all. They had to keep their mind on Tom and Laura, however painful that may be.

♠♥♣

Voices were travelling closer. Tom could feel all his muscles tensing up. Laura sighed, fresh tears leaking from behind her closed eyes. The voices were approaching slowly. Tom's instincts were to draw back against the bars of the cage but once he had done that there was nowhere else to go. He could only hope and pray that whoever was coming passed them by.

"No, I don't like the look of that one," said a female voice. That alone attracted Tom's attention. He had not heard any adult female voices while they had been in this place. He forced his heavy eyes to open. He could not see anyone from where he was sitting, he would have to move if he wanted to get a glimpse of this mystery female, but did he want to? She sounded like she was searching for a child to buy, the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself.

"Not a problem, not a problem, right this way." Tom decision was made. He recognised that voice as the man who regularly shouted at him for Laura's crying. He did not want anyone to have an excuse to hurt him.

"Yer not doin' a very good job satisfyin' our needs. We'll go elsewhere if you don' pick up yer game, savvy?" Tom's heart gave a violent leap. There was only one person he knew who used that word, but it couldn't be. Uncle Jack would never come to a place like this. His mind was playing tricks on him, but it was such a realistic trick that he had to make sure, he had to know. With Laura held firmly, he shuffled forwards. He could see that the group of people were very close, just two cages away. The woman was completely obscured by their captor but Tom could see the boots of the man he was talking to and that was all he needed. He knew Uncle Jack from top to toe and he could not contain the shout that burst from him. The shout that changed everything.

♠♥♣

"Uncle Jack!"

Jack, Sylvia and Mahmed turned as one and even through his desperation Tom knew he had made a mistake. With a snort of rage, Mahmed drew his long, curved sword which met Jack's with a loud crash.

"Get them out," said Jack as he deflected Mahmed's attack and moved so that Sylvia could slip past. She did not need telling twice. She ran to where the shout had originated from. Tom was pressed up against the bars of his cage, his little face pale and bruised. Cradled securely in one arm was little Laura who looked paler still, her lips almost blue. Tears were streaming down Tom's face, tears of relief or panic Sylvia could not tell.

"Oh darling," she breathed reaching between the bars to touch him, "I'll get you out, don't you worry."

"You need a key," Tom sniffed, his chin wobbling in his attempt to be brave.

"A key?" Sylvia repeated, "Where is it?"

"He's got it." Tom pointed at Mahmed who had been joined by a second man. Jack was looking distinctly uneasy at the prospect of fighting them both but so far, at least, appeared to be holding his own.

"You come in here, try to make fool of us," Mahmed was shouting, his voice echoing around the cave, "We will kill you all!"

"Sylvia, if ye'd be so kind as t' hurry up," said Jack in a less loud, but infinitely more pressing voice.

"I can't," Sylvia shouted back, "I need a key!" Mahmed began to laugh, a horrible rasping laugh that Jack cut short by almost lopping off his long black beard. Sylvia knew she needed to think quickly. The chances of Jack managing to get the key off Mahmed were too slim to even be considered, she would need to try something else. She grabbed the hilt of her dagger and pulled it loose. She could not cut the lock but maybe she could smash it.

"Come on," Tom was whispering under his breath, "Come on." The first hit did more damage to Sylvia's hand than it did to the lock but the metal was old and rusty, if she could just hit it hard enough there was a good chance it would give way. She tried again and again. Jack swore. Sylvia turned instinctively to see him stagger backwards, blood staining his hand.

"Jack!" She almost stood up to run to him then caught sight of a third man weaving his way through the maze of cages, his eyes fixed on her. If she did not get the children out in the next few seconds, he would be upon her and all would be lost. Fired by desperation Sylvia brought the hilt of her dagger down on the lock with such force that it sprang from her hands and slid away out of sight but she didn't care, the lock was broken. She threw open the roof of the cage and reached down as far as she could.

"Come on," she said to Tom trying not to sound as panicked as she felt, "I'll lift you out." But Tom handed her Laura.

"I can get out on my own," he said suddenly sounding decades older than his year, "You take care of Laura." Sylvia had no time to argue. She scooped Laura up in her arms and turned to see the third slave dealer standing before her, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Calling for Jack would do no good, he had enough to deal with on his own. The only thing she had on her side was the element of surprise. She put as much power behind the swing as she could, she winced as the man's nose gave against her knuckles. Blood began to pour down his face but he would not be incapacitated for long. They had to go now. She turned to see Tom standing on top of the cage. He jumped down. The impact jolted him but Sylvia grabbed him by the arm and forced him up. They ran together towards where Jack was still fighting. One of the men was now lying, eyes and mouth open, on the floor, a gaping sword wound in his chest. They had to step over him, Sylvia's grip on Tom tightened as he slowed, shock freezing his muscles. He tripped, almost bringing all three of them down, then the air was filled with a gargling scream. Sylvia's head shot up, fear clutching her heart like a vice, to see Jack standing an inch from Mahmed, his sword sticking straight through the other men and out the other side. Triumphantly, Jack wrenched his sword back and Mahmed fell, still twitching, to the floor.

"Time to go, luv," he said as if nothing had happened. Sylvia noticed a lot of blood but the next moment Jack had hoisted Tom off the floor and into his arms and she forgot all about it as they ran towards the Pearl. Gibbs was ready for them, the crew all ready and waiting to cast off the moment their Captain was aboard. The Pearl was already moving as Sylvia fell to her knees on the deck. Laura, woken by the jolting and the noise, began to cry.

8


	16. Rescue, Part II

A/N: This has taken so long, sorry! But here we are, at last, new chapter, penultimate chapter no less. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Rescue, Part II

The ship provided by Tia Dalma supported only a skeleton crew but, in truth, Will was doing most of the work himself, not because those he had with him were unwilling or unable but because now he had somewhere to aim for he was filled with an energy that would not let him rest until he had found Elizabeth. The little he was not doing himself was being done by Norrington who seemed equally charged. Will had not spoken to him yet, he didn't feel he needed to. Their aim was the same, and for now he preferred not to think any deeper about Norrington's feelings on the matter.

Tia Dalma had not said where Elizabeth would be exactly, or how Will was to find her, but Jack had faith in her strange methods, and Will had no choice. They had been sailing for a day now and their first bit of land was only just appearing up ahead. If Will had to search every island from here until the end of the world he would do it and he would do it willingly.

♠♥♣

Janie was glad to be able to resume her morning walk routine and this morning's held an extra special significance, this morning she was not alone. Walking slowly beside her, supported heavily by Janie, was their castaway, Elizabeth Swann. The poor girl could only manage the short walk to the beach before she had to rest. Janie sat beside her, fussing over her more than Henry would allow her to at home. There was nothing to her of course, she was mere skin and bone having not eaten properly in all the time she had been able to eat anything. Her skin still looked as pale as it had that first morning when Janie had found her lying on the beach. It had not been so very long ago really, barely a week, but it seemed like long enough to both of them, Janie was sure, for very different reasons. There was a strong breeze blowing across the sea and Elizabeth shivered first even through her thick layers of wool and Janie's shawl.

"Perhaps we had best be getting home again, dear," said Janie gently, "No sense in you getting cold for the sake of a little walk." But Elizabeth resisted.

"I'd rather stay here," she said quietly, "For a little while longer." Janie did not argue. She sat back down beside her and they lapsed into their usual silence. Elizabeth seemed to like staring out at the sea, no matter what its colour or mood. Perhaps it reminded her of home, perhaps she felt that if she stared a little longer her memories would start to come back to her. The cut on her head was healing nicely but it's damage ran deeper than flesh. Elizabeth could not seem to remember anything of her life before being washed up on this beach. The poor child could only remember her name. The doctor, the best they could find and afford, had told them that this was quite a common state for victims of such trauma.

"The mind," he had said, "Often retreats to allow the patient to recover their bodily strength. It will likely come back with gentle coaching, just give it time." But, as Henry pointed out, Elizabeth did not seem to be getting much better in body. She refused to eat more than a few spoonfuls of soup at meal times, and was so thin and tired that Janie feared that a sharp breeze would simply blow her away completely.

"There's a ship."

"I'm sorry, dear, what did you say?" Elizabeth sometimes spoke so quietly Janie found it hard to tell whether she had thought the words or they had been spoken aloud.

"I said there's a ship," Elizabeth repeated, her brow furrowed, "Can we go back inside?" Her voice cracked and she got up too quickly, almost falling back down again.

"There, there," said Janie taking a gentle hold of her arm, "Nice and slow now, that's what the good doctor said." Tears were rolling down Elizabeth's face, silent tears that Janie knew better than to ask about. She had never known someone so immersed in sadness as Elizabeth, Janie thought perhaps that she was mourning her lost memory or maybe in her weakened state even simple things such as seeing a boat on the horizon were too overwhelming to bear. Whatever the reason, Janie bore her safely home, wrapped her in a rug before the fire and set about making tea and all the while those silent tears continued their relentless trail without the slightest attempt made to wipe them away.

♠♥♣

Elizabeth stared into the leaping flames. Dimly, she was aware of Janie bustling around in the background making tea. Tea which Elizabeth would hold securely in both hands but never drink, the fortifying acts of eating and drinking were too much for her. Poor Janie tried so hard, Henry too, but Elizabeth could not tell them the dark secrets of her heart, the reason why there was no light in her eyes or life in her step. She was being dragged from one day to the next against her will, a helpless prisoner of her own health. She touched one cold fingertip to the cut on her forehead. There was no longer any pain, though she wished there was. Oh, to be punished for her sins. And such sins they were, such dreadful, awful, unforgivable sins. The memories Janie and Henry believed she had lost was not lost at all, but hidden, hidden from them in her own head, and they beat against Elizabeth's fragile skull every second of every day. She had given them her name without thinking but the rest she had locked up tight. It wasn't even her name any more. She did not deserve the name Turner, not when she had torn the family apart. What kind of wife abandoned their husband? She remembered. What kind of a mother led their children to their death? She remembered. She remembered smoke and flame, storm winds and flailing wind. She remembered her grip on Tom and Laura slipping. She remembered screaming their names until her mouth filled with water and her eyes went dark. But she hadn't done enough. She hadn't saved them and yet she had been saved when she would rather have died out there in the ocean. What use was life if you had no one to live for?

Janie pressed the steaming tea into Elizabeth's cold hands, it hurt, like when you walk into a warm room after being outside in the snow.

"Drink up," she said almost pleadingly, "It'll do you good." Elizabeth raised the cup to her lips but did not drink. Janie, satisfied, went to sit in her usual chair, laying her tea on the arm until it cooled a little. Elizabeth continued to stare into the fire and pretty soon she could see shapes in the crackling wood and the flickering flames. There was Will on their wedding day, dressed to the nines, for one day he would answer to no one, be looked down upon by no one, be equal to all. She remembered the way he had smiled when their vows were complete, the smile of a man whose dream has come true. She had seen it again when little Tom had been placed into his arms, and once more at the birth of Laura. One of the logs slipped and Will's fiery image vanished. Even Will could never forgive her for this. She had shattered every one of his precious dreams in one impetuous act of defiance. Finally, her reckless heart had led her to ruin, just like her father had always worried it would. A sharp knocking almost made Elizabeth drop her tea, both she and Janie already knew who it would be. Henry came home every few hours to check up on them both. Whatever he touched became coated in a fine film of flour. Janie would sweep it up as she hummed one of her endless collection of memorised hymns. Elizabeth felt like she had been sitting in this chair for years listening to the hymns and wishing she could disappear, just disappear.

"How's our guest doing?" Henry always referred to her as 'our guest' as if she was a distant cousin who had come for an extended stay rather than a stray they were providing for out of the goodness of their hearts. Elizabeth knew she had no way to repay them for their kindness, and yet she found she almost hated them for it. If they had left her lying on the beach she surely would have died without waking, without remembering, without knowing the damage she had done.

"I'm fine," Elizabeth answered. She did not try to smile though she knew Henry would have liked it if she had. She felt like a doll, or a pet, fawned over, adored, without wanting or deserving it. As usual, Janie fleshed out the answer.

"We went for a little walk today, didn't we Elizabeth?" Elizabeth nodded, her eyes sliding back to the fire. Henry and Janie continued conversing in hushed whispers, concern evident in their every intonation. She could not stay here forever, sponging on their charity. She was a burden, no matter what they said to the contrary. She was a burden.

♠♥♣

Tia Dalma's ship, though small in comparison to The Black Pearl, was by far the largest in the tiny port. The moment the gangplank was laid down Will ran down it, in his haste he almost tripped and pitched himself into the water. Norrington was close behind him.

"Will!" Will turned automatically allowing Norrington to catch him up.

"Stay on the ship," he said mustering his most authoritarian voice.

"You can't search for Elizabeth on your own."

"Don't tell me what to do." Every emotion was perilously close to the surface threatening to burst out of him in one great explosion of passion. Norrington did not back away. Will continued onwards, Norrington just behind him. The first person they came across was a young girl who was unpicking knots in an old fishing net. She didn't look up at them until their shadows fell across her work. Will tried to speak but found all of his words had become just as entangled as the girl's net and there was no one around to unpick it. Norrington stepped forwards, his usual manner unchanged by his recent change in circumstances.

"Excuse me, would you happen to know of someone we could talk to regarding a missing person?" The little girl looked up, her eyes wide with astonishment. Norrington recognised her bemusement. He knelt down slowly so that he was on her level.

"Where are your parents?" he asked. The little girl suddenly jumped up, threw her net down to the ground and ran as fast as she could towards the nearest building. Norrington looked up at Will apologetically.

"Come on," said Will, "We'll find someone else." But before they could move very far the young girl returned flanked by two adults, one male, one female.

"There they are, father!" the girl said pointing at Norrington and Will. The man continued forwards while the woman and her daughter stood together as if fearful of the two unarmed strangers who had only asked to find someone.

"My daughter here said you fine gentlemen are looking for someone."

"That's right," said Norrington, "A woman by the name of Elizabeth Turner." The man shook his head and ran his hand through his beard.

"We don't get many visitors here, sir," he said solemnly, "Are you sure that this woman you seek came by here?" Norrington looked at Will.

"We are sure," Will said firmly, "She must be here."

"Well," said the bearded man uncertainly, "We can ask around for you."

"That won't be necessary," said Will, "We will search." Norrington raised his hand.

"We would appreciate any help you could give us."

"Sell them some fish, papa!"

"Hush, Marianne."

"But papa!"

"Hush!"

"We'd be happy to buy some fish."

"What?" hissed Will disbelievingly. What was Norrington thinking? They didn't have time to shop or eat, they had no time for anything if it wasn't taking them closer to Elizabeth but the bearded man's face had lit up. Before they knew it they were being whisked along to the man's shop and Norrington was peering at the fish the man had caught earlier that morning. Finally Will grabbed Norrington hard by the arm and pulled him aside.

"What the hell are you doing? How is this helping us to find Elizabeth?"

"We're making connections, Will," explained Norrington as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "These people will help us find your wife. It won't take long." So Will was forced to wait while Norrington made his purchase. The bearded fisherman's wife approached Will.

"I have seen a strange woman," she said quietly, "I believe she has been residing with Mr Hartley, the baker." Will's heart gave an uncomfortable hopeful leap.

"Where does this baker live?" he asked hastily, "Close?"

"Everywhere is close," said the wife with a little smile, "This is a small village." She gave him a set of simple instructions and as soon as she had finished Will grabbed Norrington again and forced him out the door. He wasn't going to wait a second longer.

♠♥♣

Elizabeth had retired to her room. The blanket felt heavy on her legs as if it was made of stone. Even the air she breathed felt heavy inside her. She remembered what it had been like to feel water flooding down her throat, choking her, killing her. That should have been her fate, it was what she deserved. She heard the knock at the door and Janie's shuffling footsteps as she went to answer it. She listened numbly as Janie pulled open the squeaking door. There were voices. Elizabeth could not hear the words and neither did she want to. She was not interested in the neighbour's gentle social calls. Although she was not actively listening her subconscious identified a male voice, a male voice that persisted for second after second until minutes had passed. Elizabeth shifted slightly, the mattress squeaking. A male visitor should have left by now if Janie was not comfortable in their presence and, thinking about it now, her voice had risen above its usual calm pitch, not enough to be construed as panic but certainly enough to rouse Elizabeth's curiosity above her apathy. Slowly, carefully, she got out of bed. She had to sit for a minute before she could stand. How weak she had become. And still the voices continued.

The door to Elizabeth's room opened onto the landing. A few steps forward and she was at the top of the stairs looking down. She could see Janie standing in the doorway blocking her view of whoever it was at the door.

"Of course you cannot go up to see her!" she exclaimed in a shocked voice.

"I understand that you don't know who I am but Elizabeth will, just let me see her." Elizabeth pressed a clawed hand to her heart. It couldn't be… Janie must have heard her at the top of the stairs for she turned and suddenly Elizabeth could see past her. All the breath left her and the last thing she remembered was falling…falling…falling…

The air was close and still, her lungs seemed to be having trouble drawing it in and pushing it out. In. Out. In. Out.

"Elizabeth?" Her breathing stopped, her swollen heart beating a painful rhythmic reminder that she was still alive, still here, and, at last, still breathing.

"Elizabeth, can you hear me?" She knew the voice, of course. It was calling her soul up to the surface, pulling it tighter and tighter until she could bear the pressure no longer. She would have to open her eyes or the cord would snap and all her life would be scattered like beads across the room. Will was looking down at her, his normally boyish face lined and shadowed with concern. When he saw her eyes open he sighed with relief but his expression did not change. Elizabeth suddenly realised that he was going to touch her, his hand moving towards her hair. She flinched like he had burnt her and sat up. Someone, Will most probably, had carried her to the fainting couch. Her head span and she knew she would not be able to stand without fainting again. Will's eyes were pools of anxiety but there was something else in them too, something far more perilous, he was happy to see her. More than happy, almost euphoric. Elizabeth realised she should be feeling that way too, here was her husband, her knight here to rescue her again.

"Will…" That was all she managed to say before she began to cry.

♠♥♣

Elizabeth was not the only one crying. Janie had tears running down her face too. She had not allowed these two strangers into her home but in they had come regardless of her wishes. Now one of them, a Mr James Norrington, was preventing her from entering her own living room! She would have run to fetch Henry if she had not been so afraid of leaving delicate Elizabeth in the company of these two strange men. If the man with her now, Mr Turner, was really her husband, why had Elizabeth begun to cry? She had not flung her arms around her "husband", she had not thanked the good Lord for his blessing in bringing him to her. The poor woman was confused and ill, she should be allowed to rest away, a point Janie tried, once more, to put to Mr Norrington. He simply looked at her sympathetically and continued to stand in her way.

"If I scream someone will come!" Janie cried passionately, her hands clasped together.

"We're not trying to hurt her, Mrs…?"

"I'll be damned before I give you my name!" Janie's strength of response must have surprised the man because his eyes widened and he cast a quick look behind him at his friend. Janie pressed her advantage.

"You have no right to enter my home like this, uninvited and unwelcome. Elizabeth is ill, she needs peace and quiet not over-excitement in the form of two strange men. If Mr Turner is her husband then he can wait until she is ready to see him." Her tone made it perfectly clear that she did not believe Mr Turner's claim. Before Norrington could reply a thin voice called Janie's name in unmistakeable distress. Janie, fired by long dormant instinct, squeezed past Norrington and was beside Elizabeth within a second. The poor girl was white as snow, her eyes resolutely refusing to look at Mr Turner who, Janie had to admit, looked nothing short of heart broken.

"I think you should leave," Janie said again as she knelt beside Elizabeth and took both of her freezing hands in her own. This time there was no argument. Mr Turner got to his feet. Janie noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was shaking too but her concern was solely for Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth…" She still would not look at him. He stood for a moment or two then retreated. He tried to speak again when he was in the doorway but words failed him, he choked on them leaving his companion, Norrington, to speak on his behalf.

"We will be staying locally, Elizabeth. Come and see us, any time of the day or night, or send us word and we will come to you. Do you understand me, Elizabeth?" She did not answer. He could not have seen the ripple that crossed her face but Janie saw it plain as day.

"Take your leave, Mr Norrington. You have done enough damage for one day." Neither of them watched the men leave but they both heard the front door click shut and the sound of boots crunching their way back up the path. As soon as the sounds of their withdrawal faded away Elizabeth took one shuddering breath which, even before she had fully inhaled, became a sob. Janie opened her arms to embrace her and Elizabeth collapsed into her, her tears leaping from a steady trickle to an uncontrollable, hysterical flood.

♠♥♣

"She's a prisoner!" Will yelled ferociously, his fists clenched tight. Norrington was glad he had suggested they leave all their weaponry aboard the ship. He tried, once more, to appeal to his Will's rational side.

"I don't believe she is a prisoner," he said evenly, "I think she is in shock, and I think she is ill. She needs you, Will, she needs you to be sensible and calm." Will turned away, facing into the stiff coastal wind. Norrington felt it whip his hair around his face and he was reminded sharply of his Port Royal days. Why couldn't things just stay the same?

"Sorry." At first, Norrington thought he had imagined the word but when Will turned and Norrington was able to see his face he knew he had not.

"Don't be," Norrington said stiffly and to shift the focus onto something less intense he added quickly, "Let's see what accommodation we can find, shall we?" And together they walked further from the house they knew contained the woman they had come to find.

♠♥♣

"I was so frightened, Henry. They wouldn't leave! And poor Elizabeth…you should have seen how upset she was, I thought she would never stop crying." Janie's whispered voice travelled through the small gap in the door to where Elizabeth lay in bed. She wished they would leave. She wished she could close her eyes and her ears and lie in the dark until her mind stopped spinning. All that crying had left her empty, like a vase whose flowers have died, shrivelled and decayed. She had looked into Will's face and seen Tom's staring back, she had listened to his voice and heard Laura's throaty gurgle and she had known that if he had stayed a minute longer she would have seen both her children form in front of her, ghosts, reminders of the worst mistake of her life. Her eyes stung but she had no more tears left to cry. Carried on a wave of continued whispering she drifted into a soulless sleep.

"_Mummy? Mummy, are you there?"_

"_I'm here, Tom! I'm here. Where are you?"_

"_Mummy? Mummy, I can't find you!" _

"_Tom? Tom, can you hear me?" _

"_Mummy, help me!" _

"_Tom? Tom?!" _

Elizabeth woke with the certain knowledge that her son was close by. She stared wildly into the dark corners of the room.

"Tom? Where are you?" She whispered to avoid attracting the attention of Janie and Henry who would surely be on high alert after what happened earlier. There was no reply just a deafening silence.

"Tom? Come out, please," she pleaded but there was no one there. Her bottom lip began to tremble as the dream world slipped further away. Tom wasn't here. She was alone. Ten minutes later the morning air was whipping round her face. She only had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders but she didn't mind the cold, she deserved it and the wind helped to numb her overwrought brain. She did not expect to meet anyone, she did not want to. She wanted to be alone. When she saw someone walking along the beach in the opposite direction towards them her first instinct was to turn back but she recognised the outline instantly and she could not run away again. Her legs refused to carry her forwards however so she stood still waiting for her husband to reach her.

♠♥♣

"Will…"

She looked so fragile Will was frightened to touch her. He could hardly believe she was real. He had never expected to find her walking alone at this early hour but he did not want to question her, he just wanted to take her home.

"Oh Will, I'm so sorry." A hard, painful lump rose up and lodged itself in Will's throat and made speaking extremely difficult.

"Please don't be sorry," he said hoarsely, "It's my fault." Elizabeth's face twisted and she shook her head. Will put his arms around her but she did not settle into him in the way she normally did, she angled herself backwards instead, straining to stay separate from him.

"I'll never forgive myself," she whispered agonisingly, "Never. I killed them, Will. I killed our children!" And she began to cry. Desperate, wracking sobs tore through her. Will pulled her close and held her tight. She tried to pull away but she was so weak that she could only struggle for a minute before she had to give in to him. Will held her and stroked her hair, whispering meaningless words into her ear until she grew quiet and calm, only then did he speak.

"They're not dead, Lizzie. Jack's gone to get them back. Jack and Sylvia." Elizabeth stared at him.

"No."

"Yes," said Will, "You were separated from them, do you remember? You must have been separated from them but Jack has gone to rescue them, just as I came to rescue you." Elizabeth continued to stare up at him and then, quite suddenly, she shuddered and went limp in his arms.

* * *

A/N: Last chapter has not even been started so don't hold your breath, I'll get it to you as soon as I can! Thank you for all your feedback, it's very much appreciated.


	17. The Final Hurdle

A/N: I am not going to apologise because sorry simply is not good enough for the delay I have caused in this story. To anyone who is still hanging on, I hope that this is a satisfactory ending to the story you have waited so long to see conclude.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen – The Final Hurdle

Hope stank. Its rank odour permeated every molecule of air as solidly as salt flavoured the water in the sea. Davy Jones was sick of it. He could sense its source and that they were close. Soon the chase would end, hope would be extinguished and he could return, satisfied, to hell.

♠♥♣

Norrington had to admit that when he first saw the limp form of Elizabeth lying in Will's arms he had immediately assumed the worst. Fear had given him wings and he had crossed the distance between himself and Will in a heartbeat.

"She collapsed," said Will breathlessly, "She was walking on the beach, we talked and she…she just collapsed."

"She needs a doctor," said Norrington.

"We can sail back to Port Royal, she can see a doctor there."

"Will…"

"She cannot stay here! The children need her!"

"Will…" But Will was looking decidedly mutinous.

"Aren't you at least going to tell those people who took care of her that you are taking her home?" Norrington asked. Will hesitated for a moment.

"I have to get her home, James," he said in a quietly desperate voice. Norrington took a deep breath. He knew Elizabeth needed a doctor but he also knew, without doubt, that her children needed her.

"Alright," he said, "But let me tell her rescuers that she is going home." Despite the obvious time delay this would cause Will agreed.

When Norrington reached the house where they had been forced to leave Elizabeth he found the door was already open. Within seconds the woman Norrington recognised as Janie came running towards him.

"Where is she?" she cried shrilly, "Where is she?"

"Mrs Turner is with her husband," said Norrington calmly, "She is safe."

"You stole her?! Right from under our nose! She needs rest, she needs looking after!" Poor Janie was pretty much hysterical.

"Things her husband is more than able to provide," said Norrington, "He is anxious to reunite her with their children. Mrs Turner will recover more quickly in the presence of her family." Janie's bottom lip had begun to tremble. She seemed to know that she could do nothing in the face of this new development. She sniffed.

"Mr Turner has asked me to pass on his heartfelt gratitude for all you have done for his wife. If there is anything he can do to repay your kindness and generosity…" Janie shook her head.

"We do not ask for thanks," she said proudly.

"Thank you all the same," said Norrington solemnly, "Mrs Turner will send word from Port Royal as soon as she is well enough to do so. I must be going, Mr Turner wishes to get his wife home as soon as possible." He turned trying not to listen to the sounds of Janie's stifled crying. Elizabeth had been more than a charity to case to her, that much was certain. It seemed, even ill, Elizabeth had managed to weave her magic through another heart.

♠♥♣

Sylvia scooped the crying Laura up in her arms and whispered into her hair. Laura's crying was reassuring, they were alive and they were safe, they were all safe.

"Uncle Jack?" Something in Tom's timid voice made Sylvia's blood freeze. She turned, Laura held tightly in her arms, to see Tom staring down at his own front which was covered in blood. Sylvia's breath left her like someone had just trodden on her chest.

"Jack?" She crawled towards Tom, too tired to stand, Laura supported by one arm. "Tom's hurt, he's bleeding, he's…" But when Tom looked up at her she saw no pain in his face, just white, cold shock. Like a flash of lightening Sylvia remembered seeing Jack stagger backwards, blood on his hands. She turned once more, her eyes wide and frightened.

"Jack!" She pressed Laura into Tom's arms and scrambled towards Jack. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, blood staining the deck of the ship a rich brown. "Jack!" Sylvia's eyes and hands were on him, searching for life. "Jack? Speak to me, please speak to me, Jack." A small, slow smile spread across his face before his eyes opened.

"Yer a worrier," he said but Sylvia did not smile. The blood was coming from somewhere, she had good reason to worry.

"Is he alright?" Tom had made his way over. He leant over Jack, pale face full of concern.

"Yes," said Jack decisively though he made no attempt to sit up, "Get yer sister below decks, Tom." But Tom did not move, there was no way he was going to leave Jack whether he was ordered to or not. Sylvia knew she should take the children away but she felt the same, Jack was hurt and she wasn't going to leave him either. Her hands had found the wound, just below his left shoulder there was a cut. Bright red blood was still oozing from it, spreading in a wide circle so that Jack's white shirt was no longer white at all.

"Oh Jack," she breathed forgetting everything he had ever told her, "What do I do?"

"Nothing," said Jack, "Gibbs…" But Sylvia did not want to trust Gibbs, she wanted to know what to do, she wanted to help.

"Just tell me what to do, Jack."

"Get Gibbs," repeated Jack, his voice soft and distant.

"No, Jack? Can you hear me? Stay with me." Tom began to shout for Gibbs, his little lungs screaming the name of the first mate so loudly that Sylvia was sure that if he had been on another ship halfway across the world he would still have heard and come running.

"Mother of Mary," Gibbs breathed and suddenly orders were being shouted left and right, people were running and Sylvia felt herself lifted up and guided away. It must have been the shock of so many things happening at once that prevented Sylvia from resisting. The children were pressed into her arms and, pressed together, three as one, they found themselves in the Captain's cabin, all three of them smelling of someone else's blood.

♠♥♣

Jack hissed as Gibbs poured water over the wound. He felt sleepy, a feeling he knew was not caused entirely by tiredness. The cut was deep but it would heal. Gibbs had pronounced it a fine scratch, whatever that might mean.

"Are we bein' followed?" Jack asked as Gibbs. The tip of his first mate's tongue was protruding from his mouth as he attempted to thread a needle.

"Not as yet, Cap'n," was the delayed reply, "Though wit' the wind at our back as it is, would need to be a fine vessel indeed to catch the Pearl." Reassured Jack attempted to relax though the prospect of being stabbed repeatedly with a needle was not conducive to a restful state.

"I took the liberty of setting a course for Port Royal," said Gibbs. The needle shot through Jack's skin making him wince.

"Good," said Jack through gritted teeth. Gibbs seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to do this one simple job.

"Nearly there, Cap'n. And done." He sat back to survey his handiwork but Jack was already pulling his shirt back on. Ignoring Gibbs' stricken face Jack stood up. Sylvia would be worrying herself into a frenzy and so, most likely, would little Tom. They both needed to know he was capable of looking after them after everything that had happened. He swayed a little as he took his first step forwards but the nausea faded as he made his way towards his cabin where his own little family were waiting.

♠♥♣

The Captain had his eye on something…or someone. Bootstrap could sense the sharper than usual chill, it made the crew extra jumpy and extra mean. The best thing to do was keep your head down and work hard, give no one an excuse to notice you. The trouble was this nagging feeling that something was wrong, something above the usual. Bootstrap remembered feeling this exact same way in the days before Barbossa's mutiny on the Black Pearl. Bootstrap had tried to talk to Jack but, too carried away with his beautiful ship and his new position, Jack had not listened. There was no one to talk to now, no one but himself. It was as if they were sailing towards a terrible storm that no one but he could see. Warning the Captain was not an option, Davy Jones neither asked for nor listened to advice from his crew, requiring no more from them than absolute obedience. And if they were sailing towards a storm, was that such a bad thing? What could be more terrible than this half-life? And maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was just the next part of his punishment, a continuation of his own personal hell. Maybe he was finally going insane.

♠♥♣

Tia Dalma had the sudden urge to check her visions. She could see blurs, three ships sailing across the same water, one following two, two unaware of one. Darkness swirled beneath the water like ink making Tia's breath catch. She had to check, she had to make sure. One look into the sands of the future confirmed her suspicions. She had always been able to feel Davy Jones's movements with an unnervingly keen accuracy, she could feel him like one feels ice down the back of your neck. Jack Sparrow, however, was like the sun hitting her full in the face on a still, autumn morning. The hot and the cold fronts were going to collide once more and Tia knew she could do nothing to stop them. All she could do was sit, wait and watch.

♠♥♣

Norrington stood facing the open ocean. The spray on his face was a pleasant reminder of the life he had thought lost forever. Of course, he knew that his former position would not be waiting for him when they reached Port Royal but Will had promised to see justice done. Norrington almost laughed. If someone had told him a few years ago that he would be relying on the word of Will Turner to return home he would have suspected them of a touch of sun or worse. All his life Norrington had set such store by birth right, position and honour. Was it possible that he had overlooked the parts of life that made it worthwhile? He had certainly missed out on love. He scuffed the heel of his hand across the smooth rail of the ship, the polish was wearing thin in places and he had observed several knots that did not come close to the standard he was used to expecting but she was a good little ship despite the laxity of her crew. Again, Norrington found himself wondering whether perfection was something worth striving for after all. All the certainties he had clung to for so long were falling away from him. What was he going to be left with? His eyes travelled out across to the horizon. The shimmering silver-blue was unbroken, the expanse was awe inspiring, Norrington did not believe he would ever fail to be moved by the site of the ocean stretching out in every direction. He was about to turn away and redo the sub-par knots he had seen when he caught sight of a tiny black speck marring the unbroken blue. When he looked again he thought he had imagined it but then it appeared again, a tiny but definite something. He reached automatically for his scope but he was not a Commodore any more, his scope had been lost during the storm that had sent his ship down to the depths. He would have to rely on his eyes alone. With a feeling of mounting tension, he kept his eyes on the tiny dot until he was sure beyond any reasonable doubt that it was getting larger which meant that the tiny something had to be a ship.

Norrington knocked quietly on the cabin door that he knew contained Will and Elizabeth. He had told the crew not to disturb them. They had smirked and exchanged glances at his attempted authority but they had obeyed his command all the same.

"Will?" The door opened and Will appeared. He was looking pale but there was a soft, familiar smile on his face. The smile Norrington had first seen reflected in Elizabeth's eyes. He closed the door gently behind him before speaking.

"She's asleep," he explained.

"Is she alright?" Norrington asked, his concern for Elizabeth overriding the news he had come to tell. Will nodded. He looked like he could do with a good night's sleep too.

"There's a ship approaching at considerable speed," he said and he felt a smile pull at his own lips, "A ship with black sails." There was a soft thump on the other side of the door Will had just closed and before either of them could investigate the door was pulled open and Elizabeth appeared in just her slip. Before Norrington could turn away to preserve her modesty she grabbed his arm and looked up into his face, their eyes meeting.

"What did you say?" she breathed, her chest inflating with a mother's hope. Norrington swallowed to enable his answer to slide from his throat.

"The Black Pearl," he said, "She's right behind us."

♠♥♣

Jack could feel Sylvia's body rising and falling beside him, her breathing quiet and steady. Nestled between their two bodies were Laura and Tom who were curled around each other, both of them asleep. Jack could hardly believe what they had done to get them back, it all seemed like a bad dream, the only constant reminder being the aching pain that was keeping him awake but a bit of pain was a small price to pay.

"Jack?" Sylvia's voice, barely more than a whisper, floated across to him.

"Aye?"

"You're not sleeping."

"Neither are you, luv." Jack wanted to reach over and take Sylvia's hand in his but he dared not risk disturbing the children. Sylvia, lying unnaturally still, was apparently fighting the same battle.

"I have something to tell you, Jack." The seriousness of her tone took Jack by surprise. He had thought that he could relax, apparently he was wrong. Sylvia took a deep breath and Jack waited.

"Jack, I can't…I can't have children." Jack felt his heart thump twice then lie strangely still. When it thumped again Jack felt an immense pressure either side of his head, like two hands were pressing against his skull. He realised the silence had gone on too long and that he would have to fill it.

"Oh." A sharp intake of breath from Sylvia indicated how well that response had gone down.

"Is that all you're going to say?" she whispered, her tone anguished and ashamed. Jack turned his head and saw that she was looking at him, her eyes black in the shadowy cabin. Tom and Laura slept on, oblivious to the tension. Jack did not know what to say. What did Sylvia want to hear?

"How do you know?" he asked. He considered this a reasonable question. Sylvia closed her eyes. When she reopened them the depths of misery they contained was too painful to look at and yet Jack found he could not look away.

"I think I've known for a long time," she said quietly, "I just didn't want it to be true so I…" Her eyes had wandered to the children and become tangled in Laura's soft hair, when they met Jack's again they were startlingly clear.

"Davy Jones told me."

"What the hell does he know?" snapped Jack more loudly than he had intended.

"Ssh!" said Sylvia anxiously but there was a tiny bubble of laughter in her voice. "He knew how much it would hurt me," she continued when she was sure the children remained undisturbed, "And I think he knew it would hurt you too." Jack longed to say that it did not hurt him at all, that Davy Jones could not have been more wrong but the words died in his throat. He had not even realised he wanted children. Perhaps he had always assumed that one day they would happen. It was the certainty that was the hard part, the knowledge that there was nothing they could do.

"This doesn't change anything," he said suddenly. Sylvia smiled.

"Of course it does," she said resignedly, "But there are worse things. Besides, looking after these two is proving to be a full time job." Laura yawned displaying her tiny pearl-white teeth. She was still far too pale but she would be reunited with her parents soon and all would be well. A loud knock on the door made both Jack and Sylvia jump. Laura's eyes shot open and she began to scream.

"Gibbs, there'd better be a bloody good reason fer this!" roared Jack over the little girl's petrified yells. To Jack's annoyance, Gibbs did not shrink from his rage, instead he grinned.

"Don' worry, Cap'n, this be a sight worth the waking."

♠♥♣

Elizabeth could barely be persuaded to put an overcoat on over her slip, so excited was she to get her first glimpse of the children she thought had been taken from her forever. Even when the Black Pearl was too far away to make out the people upon her Elizabeth was grasping the rail and straining her eyes desperate to see for herself what her heart could still hardly believe. Will came to stand beside her, his excitement just as acute as her own. On her other side stood James Norrington, the man she had once promised to marry. There was a smile on his face that Elizabeth found infectious. He felt her eyes on him and turned his head to look at her. She saw the same muted longing that she had seen so long ago when he had awkwardly proposed to her, the same day she had first met Jack. The world was a strange place, so many broken hearts and missed opportunities, so many fateful meetings, so many moments that could alter the course of a life and change the way you felt forever.

"There's Gibbs," said Will, his voice cutting sharply through Elizabeth's wandering thoughts. Elizabeth's heart rose higher and higher until she found feel it fluttering in her throat.

"MUM!" A shout flew across the water towards them and there, before their eyes, was the most marvellous sight Elizabeth had ever seen in her life. Tom was waving at them, his arm working furiously, his whole body jumping up and down so that they would see him. Elizabeth felt her insides crumbling. She pressed her hands to her face as Will began to wave back. Great wracking sobs rose up from the depths of Elizabeth's soul as she saw Sylvia come into view with little Laura in her arms. They were alright. Oh God, they were alright.

"Elizabeth?" James sounded concerned. Elizabeth tried to speak, she tried to tell him that she had never been happier in all her life but the tears would not stop to let the words through. James, however, seemed to understand. He patted her rather clumsily on the shoulder, unsure perhaps of the best way to express his own emotions, but Elizabeth needed more than that and a moment later she was in his arms crying onto his chest as Will continued to wave across to the other ship.

♠♥♣

"Tom! If you jump any higher you're going to take off!" cried Sylvia but Tom was not listening to her. If he could have jumped the still considerable distance between the two ships he would certainly have done it. Sylvia was glad when Jack put a restraining hand on the boy's shoulder. Laura was wriggling like a snake in Sylvia's arms desperate to reach her mother, it was with considerable difficulty that Sylvia managed to keep hold of her. Elizabeth appeared to have been overtaken with emotion and was crying in Norrington's arms while Will commanded the crew of the smaller ship to drop sail. Everything seemed to be perfect, everyone was safe and in minutes they would all be reunited. Sylvia was just about to lean over to kiss Jack when an explosion rent the air as powerful as a cannon blast. In the space between the two ships a monstrous great object burst from the under the surface of the sea, water cascading from its deck and gun mounts. Sylvia could only stand and gape as the Flying Dutchman came to an impressive stop almost blocking Will and Elizabeth's ship from view. Nobody moved, even Gibbs who usually remained unfazed enough to remind Jack to give orders could only stand slack jawed at this sudden, terrifying interruption. _No_, thought Sylvia, her brain stirring before her body, _No, you may everything else from me but you are not taking these children_. _You will never take these children_.

♠♥♣

The silence rang out across the water. Bootstrap felt like they had not surfaced at all. Silence was always deeper under the water. Unusually, the Captain showed absolutely no signs of being satisfied with the perfect execution of his plan to separate the two ships and when he issued his orders it was with cool, brisk detachment.

"Run out the guns." Bootstrap felt his insides twist as they did every time he heard those terrible words. The sound of the Dutchman's cannons being wheeled into position haunted his nightmares. He had seen so much death as a member of this crew, so much unnecessary destruction.

"Mr Turner, is there a reason why yer standing in my way?" Bootstrap staggered backwards automatically bumping into another crewman who yelled angrily and pushed him back into the path of the Captain.

"Well?" he said shortly.

"Sorry, Cap'n, I…" In his efforts to avoid eye contact with the Captain, Bootstrap's eyes travelled over his shoulder and landed on a figure standing on the deck of the ship to their right. It would have been impossible to explain how he could be sure of what he was seeing but Bootstrap did not need a second look to know who he had just seen. In any other circumstance, in another world beyond this one, if things had worked out differently, if some things had stayed the same, Bootstrap would have praised the Lord on high for delivering him this miracle; but today was not a day for miracles. Standing on the deck of the ship they were preparing to send to the depths was none other than William, his only son.

"No." The words came tumbling from him without censor, without restraint. He could not let this happen. He would do anything. "Cap'n, you can't fire on that ship."

"What?" Davy Jones was staring at him with a gaze as sharp as a blade. For a moment Bootstrap thought his courage would fail him but it returned with new words.

"Please don't fire on that ship, sir." Others had stopped what they were doing to listen now, as stunned by Bootstrap's loss of inhibition as the Captain was. Bootstrap could almost see the Captain's brain concocting all manner of hideous punishments to deal with this unprecedented insubordination.

"Eternity," Bootstrap heard himself say, "I'll give you my soul for eternity." A terrifyingly slow smile uncurled itself on the Captain's face but did not touch his ice cold eyes.

"Yer soul is nothing to me. An' I _will_ be firing on both ships. But why, Mr Turner, would you put yer soul on the line?" Bootstrap felt like the truth was being sucked out of him by a power he could not hope to resist.

"My son," he blurted, "It's my son."

♠♥♣

"Orders?" Gibbs demanded anxiously. "Orders, Cap'n?!"

"Jack? Jack, what do we do? We can't fight."

"No," said Jack. The wind was in their favour. If whatever had distracted Davy Jones continued a little longer they might have a chance of getting away but Will and Elizabeth…

"Jack…" Sylvia, once naïve, sometimes fragile, was neither of those things right then. They both knew that Will and Elizabeth would have no chance against the Dutchman and they both knew that if they stayed to try and save them they would all die. When it came down to it there wasn't a choice at all. As soon as Jack gave the order to flee Tom began to scream.

"No! MUM! DAD!!!" He lurched forwards as if intending to fling himself over the side of the ship but Jack caught him round the waist. Tom fought as hard as he could, fists and feet flailing. His words dissolved into a scream, tears pouring down his face, as the Pearl began, slowly at first, to pull away.

♠♥♣

Elizabeth felt like she was caught in some awful nightmare. Just when happiness had seemed assured here was something new and terrible to snatch it all away. Will had recovered first and was now shouting orders to everyone he could see but what good could anybody do? They could not escape now, all efforts would be in vain. Evidently most of the crew thought so because they were ignoring Will's commands choosing instead to stand paralysed by fear and horror.

"Oh God," Elizabeth whispered, clutching at Norrington for support, "Please let them be safe." She could no longer see Laura or Tom, the monstrous ship that had emerged as if from nowhere was blocking her view. Any moment now the Dutchman was going to open fire. Her last thought was going to be that she had failed her children again.

"Elizabeth, look!" James was pointing to a black sail that was moving past the ghostly sails of the Dutchman.

"They're moving," said Elizabeth, wild hope dancing all around her, "The Pearl! She's moving!" And she was. The Black Pearl was inching her way from the danger zone, picking up speed with every passing second. Words from long ago came back to her, never had they been so welcome. _She's the fastest ship in the Caribbean, luv. _On board Jack's beloved Pearl, her children might yet have a chance. Elizabeth looked round for Will but he had disappeared, no doubt to do the work that was not being done with his own hands.

"Why is he letting them get away?" Norrington asked in a low voice, talking more to himself than to Elizabeth. She did not care why. As long as they got away, nothing else mattered. She found herself scanning the length of the Dutchman. She had no doubt about who was Captain when she saw him. There was a crewman before him, the cause of the distraction. Elizabeth found herself wishing she could hear what was being said when suddenly the Captain looked up. Elizabeth blinked and then he was there, two paces in front of her. James, shocked, took a step backwards but Elizabeth stood firm. This was the monster who would decide all of their fates, she was not going to show that she was afraid of him. Beside him was the crewman she had seen and it was to this half-man, half-sea creature that Davy Jones first spoke.

"So," he said drawing out the word, "This is Mrs William Turner."

"Davy Jones," spat Elizabeth, she needed no introduction. If it had not been for his abduction of Sylvia, Will would never have left Elizabeth and the children in Port Royal, there would have been no need to sail to England, there would have been no sinking ship, no near drowning, no terrible days believing her children to be dead and herself to be responsible, there would have been no need for Jack and Sylvia to rescue them, no need for Will and James to rescue her. Everything could be traced back to Davy Jones. As if reading her thoughts, the monstrous Captain laughed. Elizabeth noticed that the sad eyed man beside him did not join in. Davy Jones shifted his attention from her to James who had come to stand beside instead of behind her.

"Ah, William Turner, I presume." Elizabeth opened her mouth but James got there first.

"That's right." She looked at him, completely confused but he warned her with a sharp look to play along. Davy Jones looked between them as if assessing them for some quality.

"Are ye sure he's yer son?" he asked the crewman. Evidently this question was meant to wound. Thoughts began to crash into each other in Elizabeth's head. No, it couldn't be. Will's father? All of this was happening too fast. For the first time in her life when she was not wearing a corset Elizabeth found herself struggling to breath.

♠♥♣

Bootstrap felt like he was watching something he had known would happen, like a dream from long ago had come to life. It was not a nightmare yet, but one slip, one wrong move and Bootstrap knew that whatever hell he had been living in would pale in comparison. Davy Jones did not usually make mistakes but he was making one now. The man before them was not his son but Bootstrap was not about to correct him, not when the Captain had such a murderous look in his eye. He did not seem the least bothered by the Pearl which was slipping further and further away, a fact which Bootstrap found deeply alarming. Why would he allow the Pearl to escape? Was he planning to wait until they were sure they were safe then call the kraken? Or was something preventing him from doing what he did best? Bootstrap thought of Sylvia, the only person he had seen actually upset Davy Jones. Could she be the reason? He suddenly realised that someone was speaking.

"What are you doing on this ship?" the man that was not his son was asking, his voice authoritative, "You have no business here."

"The sea is my business," said Davy Jones coldly. He was not toying with his victim this time, he had his target in his sights and he was going to strike. The same thought must have occurred to Elizabeth because her eyes suddenly widened. The air rippled with a cacophony of fear and cruelty. Here they were in the presence of love. One man made courageous by it, one man scalded by the memories of its touch and one man, him, too terrified to do the right thing. No one could have stopped him, no one tried. As the blade cut its way effortlessly through skin and flesh Bootstrap felt as if the cut had been made to his own heart, so piercing was the pain that shot through him. Elizabeth screamed as the man who was not her husband staggered backwards, already dead. Davy Jones sheathed his sword as his helpless prey fell to his knees, Elizabeth falling with him. And though Bootstrap would be tormented by the sight of man and woman struggling against a force greater than them, he could not help but be glad that Davy Jones had got it wrong. The dying man was not his William.

♠♥♣

Will's mind refused to believe that he had seen what he had just seen. No, it couldn't be true. When he reached them Norrington would be standing beside Elizabeth as before and they would find a way to escape together, all of them. Norrington would not be dead, could not be dead. Davy Jones had disappeared back to his own ship but Will would not have noticed him if he had still been standing there. Elizabeth's hands were bloody from her attempts to hold back the tide that flowed so freely from Norrington's chest. His eyelids were flickering but Will knew there was nothing either of them could do. He sank to his knees. Elizabeth did not even look at him.

"James? James, look at me. You're going to be ok. We'll get help. You'll be alright, just hold on." Norrington looked as if he was trying to speak but no words made it past his lips. Will realised that he should not be there, the least he could do was allow the former Commodore to spend whatever time he had left in the arms on the woman he loved. Getting to his feet again his eyes met those of the crewman who had accompanied Davy Jones across from the Dutchman. Something clicked into place inside him, a certainty that he would not have been able to explain. This man, this monster, he was too familiar…he was…

"William…" One word and the man disappeared. Will stepped forwards as if that might bring him back but he was gone. His father. Gone again. A terrible wail made Will look down at his wife and the man she held in her arms. James Norrington was dead.

♠♥♣

Davy ordered the Dutchman down knowing that within seconds there would be no trace of its presence other than the steady drip, drip, drip of a dead man's blood. He should have blasted them all to hell. He should have ripped the ships apart and slit every throat. But she had stopped him. Sylvia. He had not wanted to see her face, or hear her voice. She had become too tightly entwined with the one he had loved and lost. Even the memory of her presence on the ship burned him. He would forget her, bury her deep under layers and layers of time and space. He would travel to the far corners of the world and she would not follow him. He would not be hurt twice. He would do the hurting, always, always. He would ensure that wherever he sailed there would be no love, no hope, no peace.

Let all who saw him fear the darkness that dwelt within. Let them fear love's darkest hour.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who made it to the end. I love to hear from you, as you well know. As you will have noticed from the time it took to update, I have very little time for fanfic writing any more so this is likely to be my last long story. I hope you enjoyed it. :)


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